


His Partner in Crime

by glassclosetcastiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Online Dating, Angst and Humor, Artist Castiel, Bisexual Dean, Charlie Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, Charlie is the queen of Moondoor, Coming Out, First Kiss, First Love, Fluff, Gay Castiel, Humor, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Mechanic Dean, POV Alternating, Profound Love, Sammy is having none of Dean's crap, Supportive Sam, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, dean is a dork
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-07
Updated: 2015-08-11
Packaged: 2018-02-20 05:57:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 55,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2417507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glassclosetcastiel/pseuds/glassclosetcastiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel has never fancied himself the online dating type. And he still doesn't. He's just looking. Definitely just looking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Almost-Definitely-More-Than-Probably-Gay

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was my first real longfic, before I really knew about beta practices. As such, it's un-beta'd and largely unedited. I'm slowly making my way through it and polishing it. In the mean time, I apologize for any glaring errors. I'm getting there. 
> 
> Enjoy!

_Tagline- write something that will catch their eye!_

_Ugh._ Castiel groaned and raked his hands through his hair in frustration. It was nearly 6:30 on a Friday night, and he was hunched over his laptop. _This was stupid. This was a stupid idea._ He sat back in his chair and rolled his eyes up, searching the ceiling for something interesting to say. The ceiling held no revelations.

Castiel Novak had never fancied himself the online dating type, and he still didn't. _I'll just see what's out there_ , he’d convinced himself. Just to see. It turned out, however, that in order to _see what was out there_ you had to create a profile. The first few questions had been simple. Name. Age. Occupation.

Well, that last one had been a bit touchy. "Freelance artist," he’d written, because that sounded better than "unemployed." He was still in that post-college pre-rest of your life phase. Unfortunately for Castiel, this phase was going on two years long. His handsomely-framed Bachelor's Degree was hanging in his childhood bedroom, gathering dust.

 _Tagline- write something that will catch their eye. What does that even mean?_ Eventually, he settled on, "Let's watch a bad movie and eat cookies." Because, why not? It was innocuous while being just a bit unique. Not too cheeky, not too bland. He moved on to the next part.

 _Bio- write a description of yourself!_ Castiel huffed out a sigh. _Why does everything need exclamation points?_ He chewed on his bottom lip for a moment, considering himself. In any other instance, he would have gone by his old standard of filling the space with a passage from one of his favorite books: the opening paragraph of A Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, for instance. _Far out in the uncharted backwaters of the western spiral arm of the galaxy…_ But he decided not to lead with his nerd foot on this one.

"My name is Castiel," he wrote. "I'm a freelance artist and illustrator. I received my degree in Digital Illustration with a minor in Literary Arts. I hope someday to be a children's book illustrator. Until then, I'm spending my time catching up on a backlog of books and drawing whenever I can." He paused, lost in thought again. He stopped himself from typing, "I'm ridiculously shy," and instead opted for, "I'm easy-going and introverted. I prefer the company of animals to people on a general basis, and would rather spend my Saturday nights inside, cozied up on the couch, than out at a bar." That seemed okay. Hopefully not too standoffish, he worried. He re-read the paragraph, biting at a hangnail on his thumb. After a moment, he erased the part about preferring animals to people and went on.

 _Looking for- describe your ideal partner!_ This one was easy, he knew. He had a very clear picture of his ideal partner. The problem was, his standards were impossibly high. He decided to settle for the basics. "My ideal partner would be spunky. Outgoing. Charming, but not smarmy. Someone who could pull me out of my shell. Someone who would laugh at my nerdy jokes, not at me for making them. Someone who loves family and animals. Someone who has dreams and aspirations. Someone who isn't content to sit and watch the world pass by. Someone with whom I could have an adventure."

Castiel read and re-read the description, and, satisfied, moved on to adding pictures. He navigated to the folder labeled _Model_ , which was a sort of a joke. The folder held about fifty pictures from a high-contrast fashion photo shoot he had done with his friend, Meg, a few months before. Meg was a friend from college, and while Castiel had refused to take any job unrelated to his degree despite the unsatisfying job market for artists, Meg had decided to branch out into her side interest- photography- and had found relative success. She needed male fashion photos for her portfolio, so she had approached Castiel, ordering him to wear a tight black shirt and lose the glasses. And to let her do his hair.

He had worn the tight black shirt. He had opted for contact lenses. He had allowed Meg to do his hair. The effect was, admittedly, pleasing. He looked like a model. Confident. Sexy. Basically, very unlike himself. Meg had scrolled through the images on her camera, mouth agape, occasionally whistling or saying, "ow oww!" Castiel had laughed it off. Meg had been blunt about her feelings for him in college, and it would have been uncomfortable to steer away from her advances had Castiel not decided, at that particular time, that _now was a good time to_ do something _about this_. He had told her that they couldn't go out, because he was almost-definitely-more-than-probably-gay. Meg had just smiled when he told her, saying, "Is that supposed to make me like you any less?"

But it had felt good to say it out loud, if only to one person. Fortunately, their friendship had remained strong, and although Meg still made her feelings clear, it was not uncomfortable. "You are so FUCKING hot, Castiel," she said when editing the photos. "Fuck you and your hot fucking gay ass." He had smiled over her shoulder, and shoved her playfully, and watched in awe as she transformed his normally pale, geeky visage into that of a high-fashion model.

He felt a bit guilty using these photos as his profile pictures, because, admittedly, they did not portray him very well. Yes, the photos were obviously of him- those were his deep blue eyes, that was his perpetually messy black hair- but the confidence and attitude that he exuded through the pictures had been forced and showy. He added a candid shot to his profile at the last minute, just so that he couldn't entirely be accused of false advertising. In this one, he wore a slouchy flannel and his hair was a bit messy. He had his glasses and his shy grin. He kept this photo as the last one in the slideshow on his profile.

After that, he chose a few interests- art, literature, knitting- and a few turn-offs- smoking, drugs, social drinking okay- and hit "submit," not allowing himself the anxious satisfaction of dissecting everything he'd written. Unfortunately, the next section was a questionnaire. _Answer a few questions so we can find the best matches!_ the page directed. 

The "few questions" questionnaire ended up being fifteen pages of multiple choice surveys, and it took Castiel the better part of an hour to complete. By the time he was finished, he was stiff and achey and yawning. Finally, he was led to a page of matches. _Here are some great guys for you, Castiel!_ the website confidently proclaimed.

The first profile boasted a photo of an incredibly attractive guy- _too attractive,_ Castiel decided. Unrealistically attractive. _Looking for my partner in crime,_ his tagline read. Castiel clicked on his profile and scrolled through a few pictures. _Unfairly attractive,_ Castiel thought. _Way out of my league._ He navigated back to the matches page, feeling his eyes closing. The next few guys were bland but seemed nice. Castiel dutifully clicked on each profile and gave each man a fair chance by reading through his basic information. Interests. Likes. Dislikes. Each time, he would close out the guy's profile and scroll back to the top, eyeing the model-hot bachelor number one. He yawned, and stretched, and almost closed his laptop, but hesitated, cursor hovering over the guy's picture. He clicked again. Scrolled through the pictures again. Became frustrated and closed the laptop.

 _Ugh_. Castiel cast the computer aside and leaned back in his chair. _This was a dumb idea, _he thought. He knew he would have to report back to Meg about this experience in the morning. He really wasn't looking forward to it.__


	2. Plenty of Fish

Dean Winchester was confident in almost every way a person could be confident. Self-assured. Body-positive. Accepting of his flaws. There was just one area in which Dean found himself floundering- technology. He had never been one for using computers, finding them confusing and wholly unnecessary. His little brother and sister, Sammy and Charlie, were way into computers. Like, too much. It was unnerving.

Dean had tried his darnedest to steer clear of owning a computer for as long as he could, which was why it was incredibly aggravating that he was now forced to carry around a miniature computer with him at all times, since that's all phones had become. _Mini fucking computers, all of them,_ he’d complained when he and his siblings went to the AT &T store to buy a new phone after his old Motorola had finally given out. He had walked along the shelves, pushing buttons, swiping screens, muttering under his breath with dissatisfaction. "You got any flip phones?" he asked the pretty young sales associate, who gave him a pitying look and gestured toward a display at the counter. 

"We have these," she said, looking incredulous, "but they're mostly for elderly or disabled people."

Charlie had chosen the moment to swoop in. "Come on, grandpa," she’d said, taking his arm and steering him away from the Jitterbugs. "We're gonna get you an iPhone, and you're gonna love it. Promise."

"Oh my GOD, Charlie, I do NOT want an iPhone," he'd groaned, but allowed the little redhead to guide him to the Apple display anyway, where Sam was already camped out in front of the iPads, playing a game. Eventually, Dean chose a simple black iPhone and a simple black case, and Charlie and Sam took turns passing it back and forth, chattering excitedly the whole way home, promising to teach him how to use it. When they got back to the house and Dean unlocked the phone screen, he was greeted with a selfie of the two little nerds as his background photo. Sam was sticking his tongue out. Charlie was holding up a peace sign. _Teenagers,_ Dean had thought, shaking his head. But now, as he sat cross-legged on his bed, navigating his still-unfamiliar phone, the selfie remained as his background. The kids were silly little nerds, but they were his silly little nerds. He smiled in spite of himself every time he saw the picture.

He muttered to himself, turning the phone this way and that, trying to remember how to control the volume. He finally found the buttons on the side and turned the phone all the way to silent. It didn't need to be silent for what he was doing, but the possibility of his activity eliciting any sound made him nervous. He looked through the few apps that he had downloaded. A few games. A few utilities. And a few… other things. He tapped on one of those. _POF,_ a blue screen said. Plenty of Fish. Dean still couldn't get over how ridiculously lame he felt for even trying online dating, but it was safe. Detached. Private. A list of matches popped up- a healthy mix of males and females. Dean was confident about this, too. He knew what he liked, and what he liked just so happened to be male more often than female. It wasn't an issue, as far as he was concerned, but he'd never discussed his sexuality with anyone, knowing that things like that could get you in trouble in a tiny Kansas town. Especially with the father Dean had.

He had seen most of these people before. A few of them were his classmates from high school, some of them he recognized from the grocery store or the movie theatre. He knew he had seen nearly every single one of these people at least once in real life. He sighed. That was what you got when you lived in a small, midwestern town. He clicked the screen of the phone off, just as a knock sounded at his door. "Yeah?" Dean said, pocketing the phone.

Charlie opened the door slowly, and looked up at Dean with a pinched expression on her face. "Can I… talk to you for a sec?" she asked, tapping her low-top converse-clad foot against the doorframe. 

"Sure…" Dean narrowed his eyes at her as she closed the door behind her and hopped up onto the foot of his bed. She was wearing that expression that she only reserved for times when she knew she was in trouble, and Dean was suspicious. "What did you do, Charlie?" he asked, more sternly than he’d intended.

Charlie was sixteen- the same age as Sam. They had been in first grade together when her parents had been killed in an accident. She had had no other family apart from an arthritic, alzheimer's-ridden grandmother in a nursing home in Duluth, Minnesota. Mary and John Winchester had volunteered almost immediately to take her in. It had been a seamless fit. She and Sam were two peas in a pod, and Dean loved her every bit as much as he loved his brother. They had spent the past ten years as real siblings, so Dean had long since perfected the obligatory stern-older brother face, which he turned full-force on Charlie.

"Okay, sooo," she began, looking away from her brother. "Um. You know how you asked me to help you set up iTunes?"

"Yeah?" Dean said, eyes narrowing further, dangerously close to being shut altogether.

"Wellll…" she hesitated, pulling at a thread in the hem of her shirt.

"Charlie!" Dean exclaimed.

"Promise you won't get mad!" she said, giving Dean her best puppy dog eyes.

Dean sighed. "Fine. What is it?"

Charlie took a deep breath, and the words came out in a rush. "OkaysoIwaslookingthroughyourphonesoIcouldfindyouriTunesandIsawthatyouhadGrindrdownloadedandIsawsomeotherdatingappsontheretooandPLEASEDON'TBEMADI'MSORRY."

Dean's heart had started pounding halfway through her sentence, and now he was feeling a little lightheaded. "You saw-"

"Please don't be mad," she interrupted. "I know you didn't know how to hide them properly. I wasn't snooping, I promise. They were just _right there_ so I saw them. I didn't open them or anything, I didn't see anything else. Just that they were there." She paused, gauging her brother's reaction. Dean's face and ears had turned red. It only served to make his eyes more green by contrast. 

"Are you mad?" Charlie asked.

"No, Charlie," Dean sighed, "I'm not mad."

"I promise I won't tell dad," she assured him. Dean felt a stab in his chest. _Oh god, dad. If dad found out._

"Thanks," he breathed, his jaw tense.

"I won't tell Sam, either, if you don't want me to," she added, and he gave her a quick nod, eyes on the ground. 

_What will Sammy think?_ he wondered. He'd never really thought about it before. 

As if reading his thoughts, Charlie said, "I don't think he'd care, Dean. I mean, we kind of joke about it already, and it's kind of not even a joke. Like, you are way too into Dr. Sexy and his sexy cowboy boots." She gave him a sly smile, and Dean smiled back, unable to bring himself to be mad at his annoyingly adorable little sister.

"For the record," he told her, putting his stern older brother face back on, "I only downloaded grindr because I didn't know what it was about. I mean, I knew… you know. _What it was about,_ " he said, "but I didn't know it was gonna be so gross. The guys on there are really skeevy." Charlie's face lit up at this, and they shared a laugh.

"Listen, I really only wanted to mention it because I wanted to help you hide the apps, if you want," Charlie offered. "Like, I can show you how to create a hidden folder, so if anyone grabs your phone and starts messing with it, they won't be able to see whatever apps you put in there."

"Thanks, Charles," Dean said. 

Charlie leaned over to give him a hug. "I love you, Dean," she said into his shoulder. "I'm proud of you for knowing what you want." 

They sat back and looked at one another for a moment. Dean felt like they were sailing dangerously close to the uncomfortable let's-share-our-feelings territory, but Charlie dismissed the sibling bonding time with a wave of her hand, saying "give me your phone." And that was that.

"Hey, delete grindr while you're at it," he told her. "And tinder. I only use POF anyway."

Charlie didn't look up from the phone, but she smiled wide and happily, and Dean found himself wondering why he hadn't told his little sister sooner.

"You got it, lover boy," she replied, laughing.

_Ah, yes._ He thought. _That was why._


	3. Catfishing

"What, you didn't even throw a wink out there?" Meg's usually smug voice was colored with incredulousness. 

Castiel held the phone away from his ear for a moment, rolling his eyes up to the ceiling. He sighed for what seemed like the hundredth time since making the call. "No, I didn't really do anything. It took me so long to set up the profile that I barely had any time to look through the matches." 

It was sort of true. Castiel let himself flop back onto his bed and traced the patterns in the plaster over his head with his eyes.

"Were there any hotties?" Meg asked, never one for subtlety.

"I mean…" Castiel paused, thinking of the first guy on the list. _Looking for my partner in crime._

"I'm coming over," Meg decided.

Before Castiel could choke out, "No, Gabriel-," she had hung up. "-is here," he finished into the silence of his phone.

Castiel's older brother, Gabriel, lived with him. Technically, Castiel lived with Gabriel, but the older Novak brother had never really had any qualms about sharing the house with his little brother, rent-free. The boys had inherited the house from their father, who had decided to go off to "find himself" in Mexico, away from civilization and everything that it entailed. Castiel had heard from him exactly once since he'd left eight months before. He was living in a little town in the Yucatan Peninsula where very few people spoke English, but had sounded very happy. Castiel hadn't had the heart to tell him that their father’s sudden departure had been a burden on him and Gabriel.

Thankfully, Gabe had found a reasonably well-paying job to cover the cost of the household bills, and didn't seem to mind that Castiel could only occasionally contribute when the odd freelance job came about. Castiel was extremely thankful that he had a good relationship with his brother. 

What he hated about living with Gabe, however, was trying to have friends over. Gabriel was an incomparable flirt, and it was often uncomfortable and almost always disgusting. He was particularly interested in Meg, and Castiel knew that it was because he liked a chase. The dance between his best friend and his brother was painful to watch. He groaned to himself as he left his bedroom and headed for the kitchen, where he knew his brother would be.

 

"Hey, Cassie," Gabriel smiled as his younger brother came down the stairs. "How's it hangin'?" 

Castiel knew he was supposed to say _slightly to the left,_ but he wasn't going to give his brother the satisfaction. Instead, he gave a curt nod. "Gabriel."

"What's up?" Gabriel asked through a mouthful of candy bar.

"Listen, Gabe," Castiel huffed, leaning against the counter on which his brother was sitting, "Meg is coming over, and-"

"Ooh, Meg. Yes," Gabriel interrupted. He took an enthusiastic bite of his candy and wiggled his eyebrows.

"-and I am seriously not in the mood for your gross flirting today,” Castiel plowed on, “so we're just going to be in my room. With the door closed. Don't be weird."

Gabriel was licking the chocolate off of his fingers. "I'm never weird!" he insisted, but he had a wicked glint in his eye that Castiel knew meant trouble.

A few minutes later, Meg's curly brown head popped through the door at the bottom of the stairs. "Helllooooo," she called, taking the steps two at a time. She paused in front of the kitchen, seeing Gabriel sitting on the granite countertop, wolfing down a whole handful of twizzlers at once. Castiel grabbed her arm and pulled her up the second flight of stairs as Gabriel winked at her. "Be careful, Gabe," she called out behind her, "you might choke."

"Oh, I've had much bigger things in my mouth, babe," he called back.

Castiel could never be sure whether or not Gabriel was serious about that. The way he could casually joke about his sexuality was maddening. Castiel still hadn't come out to him. He didn't know what he was waiting for, exactly, apart from the fact that it would be a horrendously awkward thing to discuss with his brother.

He and Meg wound their way up the stairs and into Castiel's pristine bedroom. Meg hopped up onto the bed and grabbed Castiel's laptop without asking. Castiel rolled his eyes as he closed his bedroom door and joined his friend on the bed. She was already navigating her way to PlentyofFish.com. "Yes, Meg, you can use my laptop," he said. His remark was met with nothing but a smirk.

"UM HELLO," Meg shouted as she clicked over to the matches page and spied Mr. Partner in Crime. "Did you even see this guy?" She gestured to the attractive bachelor's picture.

"Uh, yes, I'm not blind," Castiel said.

"He is EXACTLY your type," Meg said, clicking on his profile and scrolling through his pictures. "Oh my god, look at his eyes. They're green. YOU LOVE GREEN EYES."

"Yes," Castiel breathed deeply, evenly, in and out. "I love green eyes."

"Well, what the fuck, Castiel? Fucking talk to him or I will!" She was nearly drooling, leaning far over with her nose almost touching the screen.

"Okay, thank you," Castiel said, grabbing the laptop from her. "First of all, I'm not going to talk to someone just because they're hot. He's probably a total jerk. I mean, look at him," he jabbed his hand at the computer screen. "He looks like he stepped out of an Abercrombie ad."

"Wow, judgey," Meg teased, tweaking Castiel's nipple. "Way to not judge a book by its cover."

Castiel huffed. "How many hot guys do you know that are actually nice? Honestly?"

"Well, there's at least one," Meg raised an eyebrow.

Castiel closed his eyes slowly, allowing them to roll up into his skull first. _Always flirting._ "I'm being serious."

"I don't know, why don't you just look through his profile and see? Maybe you've hit the hot-sensitive-guy jackpot."

Castiel scoffed, but scrolled down. _Dean. 20 years old. Unemployed._

Meg scooted closer on the bed to get a good look. "What's his bio say?" 

"Hey, what's up,” Castiel read, “The name’s Dean. I'm an Aquarius. I like long walks on the beach and frisky women. Just kidding. I hate talking about myself so I'll keep it short. I'm just a laid-back dude, looking for my partner in crime. I like classic rock, early 90s metal, and muscle cars. The REAL muscle cars." 

Castiel stopped reading to let out a short laugh. "Okay, I don't like any of those things."

"Keep reading," Meg said.

Castiel cleared his throat and read on. "I have a kid sister and brother who I love to death. I would do anything for those nerds. Family is really important to me, so if you wanna be with me, you've gotta put up with them, too. I'm not into drama or games. I'm just looking for a nice, healthy, fun relationship. Someone to take on adventures." Castiel paused again, but this time to narrow his eyes in thought.

"Yeah, seems like a real asshole," Meg smirked. 

Castiel said nothing. He continued reading to himself. _Looking For: Someone who likes family and kids. Somebody who doesn't party like crazy but who can still go out every once in awhile. Somebody who wouldn't mind hunkering down to watch a whole weekend-long Star Trek marathon or catching a creature double feature. Someone who would break into abandoned buildings just to take in the sights with me, or take a walk with me down the railroad tracks just to see where they lead. I don't really care what you look like. In the past, I've only dated girls but I'm ready to expand my horizons. As long as you can stand my loud singing in the car and my obnoxious little brother and sister, we'll get along just fine._

Castiel let his head fall back, sighing again. This was dangerous. This guy was too good to be true. He moved on. _Interests: movies, TV, cars, auto repair, music, concerts, hiking, fishing, skating, martial arts. Turn-offs: Smoking, drugs, social drinking okay._

"He's too good to be true," Castiel repeated out loud. "There has to be a catch."

"I'd say his awful taste in music is the catch," Meg said. "Where does he live?"

"Uh…" Castiel scrolled back up the top. "Lawrence."

"That's not far," Meg looked up at Castiel, raising her eyebrows as if to say, _we could go there now and find him._

"No," Castiel agreed. He flipped back through the pictures. Dean was classically handsome with a pretty face. He had intense, sparkling green eyes and sandy-brown hair. And freckles. The freckles were adorable. "I'm getting my hopes up," Castiel said.

"Look at me, stupid," Meg grabbed his face and turned it roughly to face her own. "You are gorgeous and smart and talented and amazing and any guy would be lucky to have you, you asshole." She let go roughly.

Castiel smiled. "Thanks, but I just meant I was getting my hopes up because he's probably some balding 48-year-old man who just stole some underwear model's pictures."

"Ah," Meg nodded. "A catfish."

"Exactly," Castiel returned his eyes to the screen.

"Well, you should at least say hi," Meg insisted. "What's the worst that could happen?"

"Hmm… I could get murdered and turned into a skin suit.”

"Okay, Clarice," Meg rolled her eyes. "I should never have introduced you to movies. You were so much more mysterious before you knew any pop culture references."

"You have no one to blame but yourself," Castiel said, and closed out of the website without saying anything to Dean.


	4. Royal Pains

It was a Sunday, which meant that John Winchester was home. The disgruntled patriarch had taken to drinking and curmudgeonliness after his wife's death six years before, and as such, he wasn't the most pleasant person to be around. He worked long, hard hours at the auto body shop and had only one day off- Sunday- which was his day of football-watching and beer-guzzling. Sometimes, Dean would join him. Today, however, Dean had other plans.

He wound his way through the hallway and out through the den, strategically avoiding the kitchen and living room, where he would be in the direct sight-line of his father. Sam and Charlie were sitting, facing one another, eyes on personal video game devices whose names Dean couldn't remember. It was so stupid, the two of them sitting two feet away from one another, not even paying attention to the other's presence. Dean scoffed. "What are you two doing?" he asked, pulling his shoes on.

"Smash Brothers," Sam droned, eyes fixed on the screen.

"O-kay," Dean replied, "I'm not even gonna ask what that is."

"Pause!" Charlie said, and presumably, they both did. Sam looked exasperated as he set his device down and looked between Dean and Charlie. "Where ya goin'?" Charlie asked.

"Nowhere," Dean replied, finishing lacing his right shoe.

"Can we come?" She asked.

" _Charlie,_ " Dean hissed, and gave her a look up through his eyelashes that he hoped would communicate, _leave it._ Thankfully, she got the message.

" _Ohh,_ " she replied, her eyes wide, and she made a little lock and key gesture on her mouth. Dean groaned. _Why did she have to do that?_

"What?" Sam asked eagerly. Sam hated to be left out of anything. Charlie winced as she realized her mistake.

"Nothing, Sammy," Dean growled, grabbing his keys from the table by the door.

"Oh, is this about… you know…" Sam trailed off, and Dean froze in his tracks. He turned around, slowly, but just in time to see Charlie throwing Sam a wide-eyed glare.

"About what?" Dean asked, his eyes narrowed. His arms felt like they were on fire. He clenched and unclenched his fists.

"Um. Nothin'," Sam replied, looking hastily from Charlie to Dean and back again.

Dean exhaled, shutting his eyes and massaging his eyebrows with his thumb and forefinger. He set his keys back down on the table and went to sit at the recliner across from the couch. He leaned forward in the seat, looking back and forth between Charlie's comical, terrified face, and Sam's unconvincingly nonchalant one. He finally whispered, "Charlie," and that was all it took.

"I'm sorry!" She stage-whispered back. "You know I hate leaving Sam out! And you never specifically said _not_ to tell him."

Sam had a smug look on his face. Dean eyed him for a second, realizing that this was not the reaction he had expected from his teenage brother. "We already knew, Dean," Sam still managed to achieve that tone he used when he felt superior to someone, even though he was whispering. "I mean, I was pretty sure you were gay. You are _way_ too into Dr. Sexy."

"That's what _I_ said!" Charlie cried, forgetting herself. She clapped two hands over her mouth as Dean gave her an urgent look. _Shut up! Dad!_ "Sorry," she whispered again.

"I'm not…" Dean began, but he didn't know what he wanted to say. _I'm not gay_? He settled on whispering, "I'm probably not gay. I still like girls, sometimes."

Sam nodded, and simply said, "okay."

Dean narrowed his eyes at his brother again. "That's it?"

"Yeah," Sam replied, shrugging. "You're bi. That's cool. Like I said, I already kind of knew."

Dean shook his head, disbelieving. This was so much simpler than he had anticipated. "Okay, then," he said, getting up. He started to walk away, but then turned around sharply and hissed, "not a word to dad."

"Obviously," Sam said. Charlie nodded in agreement.

"So where _are_ you going?" she asked again as Dean grabbed his keys for the second time. "Going to meet up with… someone?" She smiled mischievously.

Dean rolled his eyes. "No, I'm just going somewhere where I can be alone."

Charlie pouted, but Sam had already picked up his game again. As Dean walked out the door, he heard his little brother say, "don't forget to wear a condom." He heard Charlie snort in response.

\--

Dean pulled his Impala into the parking lot at Buffalo Wild Wings. There were at least five places with free wifi that would have been more secluded, more private, and _quieter,_ but no way was Dean going to one of those hippie-dippie coffee shops. He took a seat in a booth by the bar and ordered a cheeseburger, extra onions. While he waited, he pulled out his phone and clicked on the POF icon. He tapped his fingers on the table as the app started up. _Two new matches!_ it finally declared. _Four new messages!_

Dean sighed as he tapped on the red bubble indicating the new matches. They were both guys. One had no pictures of his face, opting instead for three body-pics. Those profiles always made Dean uneasy. He skipped back to the other guy. It was a guy he had gone to high school with- Aaron. Dean couldn't remember much, other than the fact that he had been the only jewish kid in the whole school. He had a nice, friendly face. Large, dark eyes. Dean tapped on his profile and scrolled through his pictures. He looked the same as he had two years ago.

Dean tapped on the message icon. Two messages were from the body-pic guy. Dean deleted them. One message was from a blonde girl who he thought he recognized as a concession worker at the movie theatre. "hey," it said. The last message was from Aaron. "Dean!" the subject read. Dean smiled and opened it. "Dean! I didn't know you were into guys. That is a HUGE shock, you're like the straightest guy ever. How are you doing? How have you been since high school? What are you doing with your life?"

Dean slowly fumbled his way through typing a reply. He still hadn't gotten used to the tiny, imaginary keyboard on the screen. "Hey Aaron. Yeah, who knew, right? I'm not out to anyone though. My dad would literally skin me alive if he found out. I'm good. Still at home, working part time at my dad's shop. How are you? It's good to hear from you."

Dean hit "send" and clicked on Aaron's profile again. He read through his interests. He was heavy on the 420 stuff. Dean had never gotten into that. He hated the thought of Sammy and Charlie getting messed up in drugs, and that alone was enough of a deterrent. Dean decided to give Aaron a chance, anyway. He navigated back to the messages and clicked on the blonde girl's profile. _Maggie. 18 years old. Student._ Dean read briefly through her bio before realizing that she was still in high school. The age difference wasn't terrible, but the thought of dating someone who could potentially be his younger siblings' classmate made him feel dirty. He deleted Maggie's message.

The waitress brought his burger, then, and he set his phone down for a bit. His eyes traveled to the many television screens lined up against the walls of the bar, and he found himself getting lost in the football game. He was halfway through his burger when his phone buzzed. It was a text from Sam. _Dad wants to know where you are. What should I tell him_

 _Shit,_ Dean thought, and took a last giant bite of his burger. _tell him I'm on my way,_ he typed back. He threw a ten down on the table and hit the road.

\--

Dean had the foresight to stop at the Gas 'n Sip on the way home. He grabbed a case of beer and a case of coke, and hoped, silently, that his confidence alone would be enough to deter the clerk from asking to check his I.D. Thankfully, the kid behind the counter was probably younger than Dean, and he scanned the bar code on the beer without comment. "Have a nice day," the kid drawled, and Dean gave him a nod and left.

When he got home, Charlie and Sam were conspicuously absent. Dean dropped the coke onto the kitchen counter, and his father perked up from his armchair. "Where you been?"

In response, Dean held up the six-pack. "Beer run." He loaded the bottles into the fridge and grabbed a cold one from the back. Without asking, he walked over to his father and swapped out the empty bottle for the new one. If John Winchester noticed, he didn't make an effort to show it. Instead, he asked, "Want to finish watching the game with me?" His eyes never left the screen.

"Nah," Dean replied as he felt his phone vibrate, "I'm just... I'll be in my room." His father's attention was already fixed back on the game. He gave a small grunt in reply, but nothing more. Dean tossed the empty bottle in the trash as he left the room. He passed Sam and Charlie's rooms, but they were both empty. He heard noise coming from his room down the hall.

The door was open. Charlie was on his bed, and Sam was sitting cross-legged on the floor. "What have I told you about being in my room?" Dean growled, but his tough older-brother act wasn't getting to the teens. Not anymore. Sam unfolded himself from the floor and came to close the door behind Dean. It was hard to be the intimidating older brother to the kid, who was already taller than Dean at just 16. At the rate he was going, Dean knew he'd be most of the way to seven feet tall by the time he graduated.

Sam clapped a hand on his brother's shoulder. "We need to talk."

Dean sighed for what felt like the hundredth time in two days, and sank onto his bed next to Charlie. "And what, pray-tell, do we need to talk _about_?"

"You've gotta be careful, Dean," Sam replied.

"Careful?" He raised his eyebrows.

"If you're going to be meeting up with random guys from the internet, yes," Charlie added, as if it were the most normal thing in the world for a teenage girl to be saying to her older brother.

Dean scoffed. "Charlie," he began, but Sam cut him off.

"She's right, Dean. I mean, do you even know who these guys are?"

"Okay, hold up!" Dean tried not to yell as he held his hands, palms out, in front of his siblings' faces. "First of all," he pointed a threatening finger at Charlie, "I am not meeting up with _random_ guys from the internet. I haven't met up with anyone, as a matter of fact. And secondly," he shifted the finger to Sam, "of course I know who they are. I mean, I don't _know_ know them, but they have pictures and stuff."

Charlie and Sam exchanged a look, and Dean groaned. It was exasperating trying to keep up with their creepy, twin-like ability to communicate without speaking. "What?" Dean asked.

"Not everyone is who they say they are online," Charlie explained. "Have you talked to anyone?"

Dean could feel the phone in his pocket like a lead weight, as if the unread message he'd received had somehow made the phone heavier. "Yeah, I've talked to two people," Dean lied. In truth, he'd talked to several people, mostly guys, but most of the conversations had turned sexual really quickly, and while it had been a long dry spell for Dean, he wasn't ready for something that casual. He wanted to take it slow. Form a bond with someone. His previous relationship had been fast and furious, and it had ended the same way.

"Okay, do you know who they are, though?" Sam asked with the concerned face that he only reserved for Dean when he felt his brother was doing something stupid.

"Yes, as a matter of fact," Dean was getting defensive. "I talked to this guy Aaron from high school. Nice guy."

"We're just worried," Charlie said, looking between her brothers. "Just, you know, make sure these guys are who they say they are before you meet them in person."

"What are you so worried about?" Dean asked. "You think I can't handle myself?"

"No, that's not it," Charlie replied.

"It's just-" Sam started.

"Don't get catfished," Charlie finished.

Dean narrowed his eyes in confusion. "I'm sorry, _what?_ "

"Don't get catfished," Charlie repeated.

"What the hell does _that_ mean?" Dean snapped.

Charlie and Sam shared an exasperated sigh. It was a point of contention in the house that Dean refused to be updated in any way. He listened to casette tapes. He only watched re-runs. It annoyed the younger Winchesters to no end.

"Okay, so basically there's this show-"

"Well, it was a movie first-"

"Yeah, it was a movie first, but now it's a show about this guy-"

"Well, it's not really abut Nev anymore, now he's just-"

"OKAY," Dean bellowed, interrupting them. "One person at a time, please."

Charlie nodded at Sam to continue the explanation. "It's a show where this guy, Nev, finds people who do the online dating thing, and they've been talking to someone online for awhile, or whatever, but there's always something off about the person they're talking to. Like, they always make excuses for why they can't talk on the phone, or they only have like three pictures of themselves or something."

"Anyway," Charlie added, "Nev does some investigating, and like 90% of the time finds out that the person wasn't who they said they were. Like, they're usually someone totally different. So they're just talking to some random person online for like _years_ and it turns out it was some creepy stalker woman the whole time, or something like that."

Sam nodded, emphasizing the apparent gravity of the situation. Dean took a deep breath. "So... what does this have to do with catfish?" He asked.

Charlie groaned again. "Oh, never _mind_. The point is, just make sure you really get to know the person before you get invested."

"We just don't want you to get hurt, Dean," Sam said. "You know. After what happened with... Lisa."

It was still a sore subject, and Dean didn't want to delve into it. Thankfully, Sam and Charlie seemed to understand. They didn't press. Dean hung his head, trying not to let the unpleasant thoughts creep in. "Okay, I get it," he muttered. "Don't trust anyone. People are weirdos online. Don't get a catfish."

Charlie burst out laughing, and Sam couldn't keep a straight face. 

"Get out," Dean said as he threw a pillow at his brother, but he was smiling a little. The kids were a _royal_ pain in his ass, but he loved that they cared, even if he couldn't show it.

\--

As soon as they were out of his room and his door was shut, Dean hunkered down on his bed and unlocked his phone. The POF icon had a red _1_ hovering over it, indicating a new message. Dean opened the app. The message was from Aaron. It simply said, "Let's get together and talk some more."

"Sounds good," Dean replied.


	5. Almost Too Bad to Be True

Castiel had three new emails. The first was a work request from the freelance agency. A company wanted to hire him for their corporate party. "We'd love to have a caricature artist at our event on Wednesday," the email read. "Please let me know if you can do caricatures. We will pay $25/hour." The price wasn't great, but Castiel hadn't had a gig in weeks, and he was running low on cash.

"Hello," he wrote in reply. "Thank you for contacting me. Yes, I do caricatures. I would be happy to work at your event. Let me know the details." He left his phone number and his thanks for their consideration. Corporate parties were awful- Castiel had tagged along to several of his father's and had hated every minute. The way everyone pretended to have a great time was unsettling and sad in a way that he hadn't been able to understand when he was younger. Castiel knew that he would have to pretend to be just as excited as they were pretending to be. He decided he would ask Meg to come along so that he would at least have a friend to talk to.

The other two emails were notifications of new messages on Plenty of Fish. He found himself shakily reading the messages, gulping down an odd fear that he couldn't exactly place. _What did you expect when you made the profile,_ he asked himself, _no one was going to look at you? No one would talk to you?_ Truthfully, he realized that he had almost expected to be a fly on the wall of the dating website, looking through profiles without being looked _at._ It had been stupid, and he knew that now. He wasn't ready to actually talk to anybody. Castiel was glad that Meg wasn't there to goad him into doing anything he wasn't ready to do.

The first message was from an older guy, probably close to 40 even though his profile claimed that he was 32. He was shirtless in his photo. "hey hot stuff," the subject read. Castiel didn't reply. The second message looked promising. The guy was clean-cut and friendly looking, with a round, inviting face and red hair. Admittedly, Castiel had never been attracted to red heads, but he wasn't opposed to the idea. "Hi!" the message read. "How are you?" Castiel clicked through to the guy's profile. His name was Cody, he was 24, he was a musician. Musicians were good. Musicians were _really_ good. He couldn't bring himself to reply to the message, though. Not yet. He snapped his laptop shut and released a long breath that he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

\--

Aaron had a regular 9-5 job, so Dean suggested they meet for dinner the next day- Monday. Thankfully, Sam and Charlie were at school and his father was at the shop, so Dean's harried, fussy nervousness went unnoticed by anyone all day. He hadn't been on a date in nearly two years, and while he wasn't even sure if this qualified as a date, he still felt out of sorts. He decided the best thing to do was to take his father's car for a spin. The breeze blowing through the open windows, the classic rock blasting through the speakers, the rumble of the engine beneath his feet, would usually be enough to sooth him, but just then, it wasn't enough. He couldn't get the troublesome thoughts out of his head. _We're just gonna be hanging out,_ he tried to calm himself. _Nothing I haven't done before._ Except that wasn't necessarily true, and that was the part that had Dean on edge. He'd never been in this situation with a guy before. He knew it would be different; he just hoped it would't be _too_ different.

At 3:00, Dean began rifling through his clothes. His wardrobe was small and consistent- band tees, a few button-downs, and more than a few flannels. The problem wasn't so much that nothing seemed to look right, it was that he couldn't decide what looked best. Dean never had a problem with feeling like he didn't look good. With each new outfit, he would do a little turn in the mirror, sometimes giving himself a wink or a thumbs-up. In the end, he chose a tight-fitting grey henley and his least-worn pair of jeans. By the time Sam and Charlie got home from school, he was relaxing on the couch, flicking through TV channels. Dean carefully arranged his face into a mask of sheer indifference and feigned boredom when his younger siblings plopped down on the couches next to him. "How was school?" he asked, eyes never leaving the screen.

"Interesting," Charlie replied, and Sam laughed.

"Oh yeah?" Dean asked, peeling his gaze from the television.

"Yep," Sam provided. "You remember Ms. Lester?"

Dean wracked his brain. The name sounded familiar, but his memory was fuzzy. "English teacher?"

"Nope, the art teacher," Charlie said.

" _Oh yeah,_ " Dean remembered. "Crazy lady. Spiky blonde hair."

"Yeah," Sam replied. "Anyway, she got led out of the school in handcuffs. Apparently, she was dealing to students."

"Holy shit," Dean's eyebrows shot up. "Everybody always said she was on something. I thought she was just a weird lady."

"Nope," Charlie couldn't help but grin. "The police came in right in the middle of class with a drug dog and everything."

"Wow, that's nuts."

"Yep," Charlie and Sam replied together, and laughed. "Anyway," Charlie sighed, leaning back into the couch, "how was _your_ day?"

"Same old, same old," Dean lied. "Meeting a friend for dinner tonight." He said it casually, but Sam narrowed his eyes.

"A friend? Who?"

"Aaron Bass. We went to high school together."

"Oh snap!" Charlie squealed, popping up onto her knees, "A date? Do you have a date tonight?"

"It is _not_ a date, we're just going to be catching up," Dean said, knowing that it wasn't technically a lie.

"Dean."

"Sammy."

"Dean."

"It's not a freakin' date!" Dean rounded on his brother. "Yes, okay, I talked to him on POF, but he just wanted to get together to talk, you know. Chat. Catch up."

Sam and Charlie exchanged a look. "Are you going to wear that?" Charlie asked, gesturing to Dean's outfit. Dean looked down at his clothes and quirked an eyebrow at Charlie.

"Yeah, I'm gonna to wear this."

"Then it's a date," Charlie said, smirking. "You're literally wearing your tightest shirt and your sexy jeans."

"Shut up," Dean said, shoving his sister playfully.

"Hey!" she protested, laughing. "You look good. Your _not-date_ will be _not-super-into-you._ " She used air-quotes for emphasis.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Just don't say anything to dad, please. I don't need him breathing down my neck tonight. Just tell him I'm out with Benny or something." Benny was Dean's only real friend, if you didn't count Charlie, Sam, or their cousin Jo, which Dean usually didn't. Thankfully, Dean spent enough nights out with Benny that it would be believable.

As 6:00 approached, Dean sent Aaron a text. _Pick you up at your place?_ He was a sucker for showing off the classic 1967 Impala, and while the car wasn't technically his, he knew that it would be one day when his dad decided to give it up. _Sure_ came Aaron's reply with his address. Dean asked Sam to show him, once again, how to program an address into his phone's GPS, and he headed out the door.

"Good luck," Sam remarked as Dean grabbed the keys.

"Be safe!" Charlie added.

"Yeah, yeah," Dean rolled his eyes at his siblings and hurried out the door, wanting to leave before his father came home.

\--

Castiel was reading on the couch when Gabriel came home. His brother's arrival was always loud and ridiculous, but today was particularly annoying. "CASSIE!" Gabriel shouted as he bounded up the stairs and ran into the living room.

"Oh god-" Castiel managed to choke out before Gabriel sat heavily down on top him and spread out. "Get offff," he wheezed, but his brother just stretched out further and sighed. "Good to be home," he said, using Castiel's head as an arm rest. Castiel shoved him away and he laughed.

"How was your day?" Gabriel asked, heading to the kitchen.

"Fine, up until thirty seconds ago," Castiel huffed, but he couldn't help cracking a small smile. "Why're you in such a good mood?"

"Wellllll," Gabriel sang, unwrapping a lollipop, "I've got a date!" He held out his hand, displaying a phone number written in large, bouncy letters in purple marker.

"Oooh," Castiel cooed in his best impression of a teenage girl. He put a bookmark in his book and set it aside. "Who with?"

"Some blonde hottie that came in today," Gabriel replied, and Castiel rolled his eyes. "Hey, don't look at me like that," Gabriel said, flopping down in the armchair across from his brother. "She's a very nice girl. Her name is Chastity. Not even making that up." He grinned wickedly.

"Well, good for you," Castiel said, picking up his book again. "If her name is any indication, it should be a very tame evening."

Gabriel laughed. "Yeah, let's go with that. Sooo, what are you doing tonight? Any plans? Any hot dates?" He teased. Castiel had never technically been on a date, and it was something that Gabriel teased him about on a semi-regular basis.

"Oh yeah," Castiel snarked from behind his book, "you know me. I'm actually thinking of going to this orgy. I heard it's very classy."

Gabriel snorted. "Alright, love guru," he got up from the chair and patted Castiel's knee. "You have fun with that. I'm gonna get ready."

Castiel checked his phone. It was 5:54. He clicked on the POF icon and went to his messages. "I'm well," he wrote in reply to Cody, the red-headed musician. "How are you?"

\--

Dean pulled up to Aaron's apartment right at 6:00 and checked his reflection in the car windows before approaching the door. He took a breath before knocking. A moment later, Aaron opened the door with a wide smile. "Hey, Dean, good to see you!" He held out his arms, and Dean went in for an uncertain hug. Aaron smelled like stale cigarettes and incense. "Come in for a sec," he said, turning into the apartment. Dean followed him in and closed the door.

The room was stark in decoration and messy, with too many nick-knacks and not enough places on which to put them. There was a bong shaped like a dragon on the table, and several other decorative pipes littered about- on the tv, on the coffee table, on an otherwise empty shelving unit. Dean stood awkwardly by the door with his hands stuffed in his pockets, not wanting to disturb the clutter of magazines and papers that littered the couch. Aaron reappeared from a side room, pulling a black t-shirt over his head. The skin on his chest was white and largely obscured by a dark patch of hair. Dean tried not to look.

"So," Aaron said, eyebrows raised. "Where to?"

Dean shrugged. "You like pie?"

"Not really," Aaron replied, crossing his arms and swaying back and forth on his feet. "Um. There's this great pho place over in Topeka I've been wanting to try out?"

Dean had no idea what pho was, but he didn't want to be rude. "Sure. Topeka. Alright." He led the way out to the parking lot and gestured to the Impala.

"Whoa, buddy," Aaron laughed. "What's with the hearse? You compensating for something?"

Dean narrowed his eyes angrily and said nothing as they got in. Aaron didn't seem to notice.

The drive was long- about twenty-five minutes- and Aaron managed to tick Dean off on just about all accounts. "Mind if I change the music?" _Strike one._ "Can I smoke?" _Strike two._ "What, you didn't even go to college?" _Ugh. Strike three._

"Nope," Dean replied, trying to keep the distaste out of his voice. "Just wasn't for me."

"Man, how are you going to get a job without a degree? Even an Associate's degree?" Aaron asked with an air of superiority so thick, Dean could almost imagine that the words were coming from his brother's mouth.

"The kind of work I want, I won't need a degree. I like to work with my hands. You know? Actually doin' stuff. Besides," Dean continued before he could stop himself, "how are you ever gonna get a real job if you're high off your ass all the time?" He snuck a sideways glance and saw that he'd struck a nerve. They drove the rest of the way in silence.

It turned out that pho was some sort of weird asian food, and Dean was having none of it. He couldn't pronounce half of the stuff on the menu, and the other half of the stuff looked disgusting. "I'd kill for a cheeseburger," Dean scowled, looking over the pictures. Aaron scoffed.

"It's really good, I promise," he assured Dean. He ordered two bowls of beef noodle soup for them and sat back in his seat, looking anywhere but at Dean.

"So," Dean began, trying his best to be civil despite his hunger and growing distaste for his date. "What do you do?"

"I'm going to school for business," Aaron replied, finally looking back at Dean. "My grandparents really wanted me to go to rabbinical school, but fuck that."

"Rabbinical school?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, to become a rabbi. My grandfather is a rabbi. He's always wanted me to follow in his footsteps, but I don't give a shit about any of that crap."

"Mhmm," was all Dean could muster in response.

"What about you?" Aaron asked, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

"I help my dad out at the shop sometimes," Dean began, but he trailed off, realizing that Aaron was texting someone or something, and wasn't paying attention. He fell silent and glared. Aaron stayed on his phone until the food came. It was some sort of thin soup, and Dean knew that even if he liked it, it would be nowhere near as filling as he needed it to be. He was starving. Aaron was already eating his.

"Try it," he said, gesturing to Dean's bowl with his spoon. Dean took a spoonful and blanched. _Can't anybody just like normal food?_ He thought.

After ten minutes of uncomfortable silence, punctuated by slurping and the clinking of spoon against bowl, Dean had had enough. "You done?" He asked, and Aaron nodded. Despite his horrible experience, Dean still paid for the meal, feeling that old obligation that paying for your date was just the right thing to do. They drove back to Lawrence, windows rolled down and music blasting so that Dean wouldn't have to talk. "Want to come in?" Aaron asked, completely oblivious to Dean's glowering.

"Nah, I'm good," Dean replied, smiling sarcastically. 

"Alright," Aaron replied, and sat there for another minute in awkward silence before finally getting out of the car and going back inside without another word.

\--

It had taken an hour or so, but Cody had replied to Castiel's message. "I'm good. Just got back from band practice. Chat?"

 _Chat._ The word sent a shiver down Castiel's spine. He fiddled nervously with the phone for a moment before texting Meg. _Mayday. Guy wants to chat on POF. What do I do?_ Her reply was almost immediate. _Chat with him, you fucking baby._ "Thanks," he said out loud to himself. "Really helpful."

He finally got up the nerve to grab his laptop and fire up the POF chat feature. "Hi," he typed. A blinking ellipses appeared, showing that Cody was typing. Castiel could feel his heart thrumming against his chest as he waited. "Hey, what's up?" Came the reply.

"Not much, just sitting here reading," Castiel wrote back. "So you're in a band?"

"Yeah. The French Mistake."

Castiel laughed. "Mel Brooks fan?"

"What?" Cody replied.

"Never mind." Castiel was disappointed that he hadn't gotten the reference. "What kind of music do you play?"

"Kind of folk, kind of alternative" Cody replied, and Castiel didn't know how to respond to that. "Oh," he typed. Nothing happened for a few minutes, and Castiel cursed himself for his poor social skills. He wracked his brain for something, anything to say, but then the blinking ellipses popped up again.

"We have a gig tomorrow night at the boobie trap. You should come."

 _The boobie trap?_ Castiel wondered. He did a quick google search. **The Boobie Trap Bar,** a simple black website proclaimed. **Tuesday - Open Mic Night! 10:00p.m.** He wondered if that was the "gig," and if that was something that he felt comfortable doing. He didn't usually go to bars unless Meg was dragging him along to some gay club. He texted her again. _He wants me to come see his band tomorrow. Will you come?_ He tapped his fingers on the keys anxiously as he waited for her reply. _Yess. We are so gonna get you laid._ Castiel shut his eyes and exhaled deeply. It was _so_ not a good idea, but hadn't he wanted to be more adventurous?

"Sounds good, mind if I bring a friend?" he typed.

"The more the merrier," Cody replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh girl, this is getting intense. I decided to switch up the format a little for this chapter so you could see what was going on with both of them. I promise to post sooner next time! Thank you to the people who have left comments so far. Please let me know what you think!


	6. Batman

It took everything Dean had not to slam the door when he got back home, and he managed to get all the way to his room without encountering anyone. It was a real testament to his love for his siblings that he left his bedroom door open, knowing that they'd come. Sure enough, it only took about ten seconds for their heads to peer around his door frame like a gag in some dumb sitcom. Dean managed a laugh when he noticed how comically huge the height difference was.

"Before you ask, it was terrible," Dean grumbled, punching a pillow into a suitable shape and leaning back on his bed. Sam and Charlie came into his room, Sam shutting the door behind him. They sat.

"How bad?" Charlie asked, curling her legs up beneath her on the bed.

"Like..." Dean cast around for a comparison that his siblings would understand. "Phantom Menace bad." Both Sam and Charlie grimaced in sympathy. "I don't want to talk about it."

His siblings exchanged one of their looks, and both stood up at the same time. "Come on," Charlie said, slapping Dean's legs.

"What?" He asked, tiredly.

"We're getting pie," Sam explained.

Dean smiled.

\--

"So, let me get this straight," Sam began, ticking the items off on his fingers, "he insulted Baby, he insinuated that you were stupid, he took you to an Asian restaurant and _ordered food for you,_ he talked smack about his poor grandparents, he ignored you at dinner, and he _still_ thought you'd come back to his place?"

Dean rolled his eyes as he stuffed a forkful of pie into his mouth. "Yeah," he managed around the mouthful.

"What a douche," Charlie said. "Why did you go out with him in the first place? I thought you said you were being careful about who you went out with."

"I was!" Dean flung a chunk of apple off of his fork on accident as he gestured emphatically. "I went to high school with the guy, he seemed nice enough."

"Let me see your phone," Charlie said, holding out her hand. Dean scrunched up his face. "Um, no."

"Come _on,_ I won't look through your pictures or anything. Just let me see some of the guys you've been matched with. _Pleeeease_?"

Dean sighed, but handed her the phone. She started up the app and started clicking around. Dean craned his neck over to see what she was doing. "No, no, no... ew, no," Charlie dismissed a handful of people. "Okay, everyone in Lawrence blows. Why don't you expand your search area?"

"HowIooat?" Dean asked, mouth full of pie again. Charlie and Sam both rolled their eyes. "Right here, see this little drop down menu?" Charlie angled the phone to Dean so he could see. "Right now you have it set on a 25-mile radius, so you're probably not even getting Topeka or Kansas City. Just Lawrence. Here, I'm going to make it 50 miles. You okay with that?" Dean nodded, and Charlie changed the settings. "Look, so many more choices now."

Dean narrowed his eyes. "Fuck, 313 matches? What the hell am I supposed to do with all of those people?"

Charlie shrugged. "Have you looked at your top viewers?"

"My what?" Dean asked.

Charlie sighed in mock frustration and turned the phone to her brother again, showing him another icon at the top. "Have you messed with this app, like at all? Look. This thing will show you who's viewed your profile the most. Okay, so HOLY BALLS-" Charlie choked out. She pulled the phone back to herself. "Oh my Merlin, this guy is dreamy. Castee... _Cas_ teel? Casti _el_? How do you even say that?"

"Let me see that," Dean grabbed at the phone, and Sam laughed as he and Charlie batted at each others' hands for a moment. Charlie won, holding the phone firmly in place as she swiped through pictures. "Look at this guy!"

Dean was looking. "I don't know, doesn't he seem a little... I don't know... prissy? Like a fashion model or something." Charlie didn't seem to hear him. She had flicked to the last picture and was flicking back.

"Wait, let me see that," Dean snatched the phone from her hand. He swiped back to the last picture. It was definitely the same guy- same dark hair and crazily blue eyes- but this picture was different. He was relaxed. A little disheveled. _Totally fucking adorable._ "Castiel," Dean tried out the unfamiliar name. "What the hell kind of name is that?"

"Sounds old-school," Sam volunteered. "Biblical, maybe?"

Charlie was eyeing Dean as he scrolled through the guy's profile. _Castiel. 21. Freelance Artist._ He was silent for a few minutes, and Sam raised his eyebrows at Charlie, who gave a little shrug and a smile in response.

"No, see, this..." Dean began, jabbing the screen with his free hand. "This wouldn't work."

"Why?" Sam asked, frowning a little.

"Because, this guy, he's got his whole life together, he graduated college, he's gonna be an illustrator, he's got everything figured out. No, _look_ , he's even got his Bachelor's Degree. No, nope."

Sam and Charlie wore identical expressions of annoyance. "What?" He growled, looking back and forth between them.

"Dean. Do you really think that he's gonna care if you didn't go to college?" Sam asked.

"That's not all, Sammy. This guy has a job, it says he has his own place with a roommate, he minored in _literature_ for Christ's sake."

"Still not seeing a problem here," Sam replied dryly.

"Dean, I swear on Hermione, if you don't talk to this guy I will kill you," Charlie threatened. "He is literally perfect for you. LOOK HOW ADORABLE HE IS, first of all, and secondly, he's an artist, _hello_ , hot, and thirdly, look at this," she pointed to his _looking for_ section, "He's looking for someone adventurous who will pull him out of his shell. That's so you!"

Dean huffed.

"Does he do drugs?" Sam asked.

"No," Charlie answered.

"Does he hate babies?"

"Not that I can see."

"I don't know, Dean, I think she has a point. Maybe you should just say hello."

Dean was having the hardest time wrapping his mind around his little brother scoping out guys for him to date. He shut his eyes and clamped his hands over his eyes. "Okay, fine," he conceded, finally, "I'll say hello." Charlie smiled triumphantly. "But I swear to god, if this guy ends up being as much of dick bag as Aaron was, I'm deleting this fuckin' app and sticking to real-world dating."

"Deal," Charlie said, and Dean swiped the rest of her pie off her plate in one huge forkful.

"I'll talk to him tomorrow. It's late. _Shit,_ it's late. We've gotta get home." Dean cleaned the remaining pie off of Sam's plate before standing to leave.

Later, after he had said good night to his siblings, Dean fired up the app again and went through Castiel's profile for the second time. _Let's watch a bad movie and eat cookies._ It was just about the best thing he'd ever read. _Just about._ He decided to type out a message. "Hey. I'd love the bad movie, but I prefer pie." He hit send and turned off the light.

\--

Castiel had fallen asleep with his laptop open on the bed, and he awoke with a start, fearing that it would start a fire. It was cool to the touch, having run out of battery hours ago. He lay back with a sigh, closing his eyes again. _What a dream,_ he thought, longing to get lost in it again. Aching for it.

He'd been in an unfamiliar house. There was a man there- a young man- but Castiel couldn't remember his face. Just that he had the most beautiful smile he'd ever seen. Castiel was shy and unable to tell him what was on his mind. You're beautiful, he had thought. The man had turned around and smiled at him. He'd heard his thoughts. Castiel was lost in that smile when he woke up.

He raked his hands over his face and opened his eyes again, reaching for his phone. It was already 10:48. He had a new email and a notification of a new message on POF, but he figured it was Cody again. _Ugh,_ he groaned, remembering. _What have I gotten myself into?_ He instantly regretted agreeing to go to the show in less than twelve hours' time. What would he do? What would Cody do? How awkward would it be meeting him for the first time? What if his band was terrible?

Castiel tossed his phone down on the bed and sat up, pulling his hands through his tangled mess of hair. _What do I do?_ He decided a shower was the best place to start.

\--

It was nearly noon, and the Castiel guy hadn't responded to his flirtation. Dean was feeling a little restless. He decided to pull on his grease-stained t-shirt and holey denim and drive to the shop. He flicked the radio on and zoned out to Led Zeppelin as he drove.

John Winchester's auto shop was dilapidated and old- a hunk of rusting corrugated metal that he'd inherited from a former boss back in the 80's. It wasn't much, but it was John's pride and joy these days. He was happiest when he was occupied with a job. Dean was like him in that way- keeping himself busy always kept his mind out of the dark shadows of his past. Losing his mother. Drunken outbursts from his father. He used the burning of his muscles to keep the darkness at bay.

He found his father hunched into the engine of a Ford pickup truck. "Anything I can do?" He called out, not wanting to startle him.

John straightened himself up and gave Dean a once-over. "You alright?" he asked, in that gruff, fatherly way that he had. Dean cleared his throat. "Yeah, fine. Just a little tired. I just got bored at the house, so…" he trailed off, gesturing vaguely into the air.

"Well, alright," John replied, wiping his face on his sleeve. "You wanna gimme a hand with this?" Dean took a final glance at his phone before he discarded it and his keys on a bench and dove into the task.

Before long they were working together, replacing a worn transmission. It really was a two-man job, and Dean wondered why his father hadn't called him in to help. They worked in easy silence, Dean taking cues from John whenever necessary. He'd learned everything from this man. Mostly what to do, but sometimes, what _not_ to do. He had unfortunately inherited the man's stubborn propensity for dissimulation, no doubt a coping mechanism borne from the traumas of his past. John Winchester had been in the marines. Dean had never had to deal with anything like that, but he'd learned the behavior just the same.

By the time the two finished, sweating and sore, it was about 4:00. Dean pulled two bottled waters from the mini fridge in the small office and offered one to his father, who inclined his head in thanks. They took long pulls of their respective bottles before either finally spoke. "Nice work today, son," John said, and Dean's chest clenched. It didn't matter how many times his father disappointed him, he still sought the man's approval more than almost anything else. It nearly hurt more to hear him say it than to hear nothing at all.

\--

It was close to 1:00 before Castiel finally swallowed his pride and checked his emails. As he'd suspected, he had a new message. What he hadn't anticipated was the sender. It was _him_. Mister looking-for-my-partner-in-crime. _Dean._ Castiel could feel his heart beating a staccato rhythm against his chest. He flopped heavily onto his bed and opened the message. "Hey," it said. "I'd love the bad movie, but I prefer pie." Castiel let out a strangled laugh.

He thought, _I should tell Meg,_ but he didn't. He wanted to keep the moment to himself. His shaking fingers fumbled over the tiny phone keyboard as he replied, "Pie it is. How are you?" He'd had the distinct urge to type, _"How are you, Dean?"_ but thought that it might have come across as a little too personal. He wasn't even sure why he'd wanted to say it. The name was nice. He let it roll around over his tongue. "Dean." He smiled a little to himself before indulging in looking through the guy's profile again. _Looking for my partner in crime._ Castiel smiled, and thought, _I wonder how he feels about Batman._

\--

Dean didn't check the message until he was back in the safety of the house. He walked straight past Sam and Charlie, who were thankfully up to their ears in textbooks and didn't notice his presence. Once back in his room, he shut the door, just to feel safe, and opened the message. "Pie it is. How are you?" _Yes,_ Dean thought. _Someone who actually likes pie._ "I'm good," he replied, "just got home from working at my dad's auto shop. Just be glad you can't smell me. How are you?" He hit send and tossed the phone onto the bed, deciding to get out of his filthy work clothes and shower.

"HEY!" Charlie managed to call after him on his way to the bathroom, but he pretended not to hear her as he shut and locked the door.

\--

Hours had passed with no reply. After the first 45 minutes, Castiel could no longer pretend to occupy himself with reading, as his gaze kept slipping to the silent phone at his side. He finally put a mark in his book and set it aside, firing up a text message to Meg. _Guess what._ Her answer came in mere seconds. _Chicken butt._ Castiel rolled his eyes. _You remember the guy with the green eyes? Looking for my partner in crime?_ It only took about five seconds after the message had sent for his phone to buzz. She was calling him.

"Tell me."

"Nothing, it's nothing."

"Nothing?" She sounded incredulous. "Then what?"

"He, uh. He sent me a message."

"SHUT UP."

Castiel laughed. "Yeah."

"Oh, GIRL. Oh. Girl." It was Meg's favorite pet name for him.

"Yep."

"So?" She asked, the heavy question evident in her tone.

"That's it. He sent me a message, I replied, he hasn't responded yet."

"What did he say?"

"You know how my tag line thing was 'let's watch a bad movie and eat cookies?'"

"Mhmm."

"He said, 'I'd love the bad movie, but I prefer pie.'"

"Is that some sort of gay reference that I'm missing?"

Castiel stalled, thinking. "I don't think so?" He didn't feel sure about it, and that made him uneasy. "I hope not."

"Eh," Meg said, and Castiel could picture her waving the thought off with a flick of her hand. "Whatever. So what are you gonna do?"

"Um," Castiel said.

"Are you going to meet up with him, or…" she trailed off, and Castiel could hear the suggestion in her voice.

"We've said approximately ten words to one another," he replied. "I'll get back to you on that."

To her credit, Meg laughed. "What are you gonna do about that thing tonight? Do you still want to go?"

 _Oh god, the show._ He'd forgotten all about it in the excitement of the day. He sighed. "Yes, we should still go. It would be rude not to, and I don't want to get ahead of myself with Dean."

"Dean?" She asked, not remembering.

"Batman."

"You are such a nerd."

"Shut up."


	7. Winky Face

Castiel spent the next several hours sketching- eyes, hands, noses, just keeping himself occupied. He eventually found himself drawing the beautiful smile of the man from his dream. The memory was fading fast and he wanted to get it on paper. He erased, re-drew, smudged. Used his pinky to shade, which was a bad habit his art teachers had always tried to break him of. He used a kneaded eraser to lift off highlights on the teeth and at the top of the lip. It was perfect. He sighed.

At 4:42, Castiel's phone buzzed, and he saw that he had a new message from Dean. "I'm good. Just got back from working at my dad's auto shop. Just be glad you can't smell me." Castiel laughed aloud and the smile stayed in place. "How are you?"

He typed back a quick reply and threw himself back on his bed again, waiting. "Great, I'm really good. Drawing. And I am glad that I can't smell you. Haha." Dean didn't reply for awhile. Castiel picked his sketch book back up and concentrated on a face from memory. He put pencil to paper and made wide, sweeping lines. Fast, circular swoops. Hard, shortened bursts. Light, fluttering passes over the paper. Erase. Fill. Smudge. Lift. Repeat. He held the pad out at arm's length, admiring his work. He smiled again and flipped the sketch book shut.

\--

Charlie intercepted Dean on his way back to his bedroom. "Um, hello?"

"Yes, hello, Charlie, give me five freakin' seconds to get dressed." He slammed his bedroom door shut and shook his head. _These kids will be the death of me._ He pulled on a clean t-shirt and jeans, and stalled a little by grabbing his phone and checking for new messages. Castiel had replied. "Great, I'm really good. Drawing. And I am glad that I can't smell you. Haha." Dean smiled and sat down on the edge of his bed. He considered writing that he'd just showered, and thus smelled like roses now, but decided against it. "That's cool. What do you draw?"

Dean used his towel to ruffle the dampness form his hair and finally opened his door. Charlie was leaning against the wall opposite his door, arms crossed. Dean gave her a look that he hoped said, _can I help you?_ in as sarcastic a way as possible. "Soooo?" she began, gesturing vaguely with her hand.

"So?" Dean played dumb.

"So, did you talk to the blue-eyed hottie or not?"

"I said hello, he said hello, words were exchanged."

"And?"

"And, we're getting a cozy bed and breakfast in Vermont together. We're even talking about getting a dog." Dean pushed past her and headed for the kitchen.

"For realsies, though!" Charlie insisted, following him.

"I don't know Charlie, I was at the shop all day. We haven't spoken much." This seemed to placate her. Sam was at the kitchen table, pretending not to listen. Dean pulled open the fridge and grabbed a can of coke. "Can we talk about something other than my dating life today?" He grumbled, sitting down next to Sam.

"Yes, please," Sam replied under his breath.

"Oh, come _on,_ " Charlie jabbed, sitting in the seat opposite Sam. "Don't act like you didn't beg me to tell you about this in the first place."

"Whatever," Sam replied noncommittally, sketching out a parabola on a piece of graph paper.

Dean felt the vibration in his pocket but hesitated to check his phone. He glanced sideways at Charlie, who gave him an innocent raise of the eyebrows. He sighed and pulled the phone from his pocket.

\--

"Cassiiiiieeeee," Gabriel's sing-song voice rang out through the house.

"What, Gabe?" He shouted over his shoulder.

"What do you want for dinner?" Gabriel shouted back.

"I don't know, surprise me."

"I'm thinking about pizza."

"Not pizza again," Castiel groaned. "Let's get chinese or something."

"Come pick something out!"

"I just want beef with string beans!"

There was a pause, and then, "I don't see that on the menu!"

Castiel let out an exaggerated huff and went downstairs. It was really the fault of their father that neither of the sons had learned to cook for themselves. He had always loved to cook for them, and there was never a need for them to know how to do it for themselves. Now, though, they were two fully-grown adult men who still ate macaroni and cheese from the box and heated up frozen hamburgers in a frying pan.

Castiel found Gabriel hunched over the China Hut menu, scanning down the list with his fingers. "See, beef with broccoli, beef with mixed vegetables, beef lo mein…" he read.

"Okay, maybe it's not on the menu, but I know they have it," Castiel insisted. He felt his phone vibrate and pulled it out. "Just order it when you call, they'll know what you're talking about. I swear, I've ordered it before."

He had a new message from Dean. He couldn't help the smile that crossed his face, so he turned his back to Gabriel and read: "That's cool. What do you draw?"

"People, mostly," he answered. "Faces. I like doing portraits. Sometimes I draw cartoons, comics, stuff like that."

"Who you talkin' to?" Gabriel asked from behind him. Castiel stowed his phone in his back pocket and whirled around. "No one," he lied, feigning indifference as best he could.

"Cassieee," Gabriel had one eyebrow raised.

"Just order the food," Castiel said, and started to walk out of the kitchen.

"Can I use your phone?" Gabriel asked innocently, and Castiel stopped in his tracks. Gabriel held his phone up helplessly. "Mine's dead."

"So, charge it," Castiel replied coolly, and headed back upstairs. He was thankful that they were grown up now, because Gabriel certainly would have wrestled the phone out of his hands when they were younger.

\--

"People, mostly. Faces. I like doing portraits. Sometimes I draw cartoons, comics, stuff like that." Dean smiled as he read. _Awesome,_ he thought. _So awesome._

"Is that him?" Charlie asked, staying a respectful distance away.

"Yes," Dean said, and typed out a reply. "That's awesome! I'd love to see some of your comics." He stared at the screen uncertainly for a moment, thinking of what else to say.

"What's he saying?" Charlie asked, and even Sam looked interested.

"Nothing, he just told me he was drawing so I asked what he draws, he said he does portraits and stuff but he also draws comics."

Sam made a noise that might be considered a "guffaw," if in fact people actually guffawed. "What?" Dean asked, leveling a look at his brother across the table.

"Nothing. This guy is like _made for you._ Are you sure he's real?"

Dean couldn't keep a tiny smirk from his face. _No, he doesn't seem real,_ he thought. "I guess I'll find out," he said, and looked at his phone screen again.

"You're going to ask you to make you into Batman, aren't you?" Charlie asked, more amused than accusatory.

"No!" Dean growled, but he hesitated with his fingers over the keys. "Shut up."

\--

Castiel kept his phone in his pocket during dinner, not wanting to have to explain himself to Gabriel. He felt the buzz in his pocket but ignored it. He distracted himself by asking Gabriel questions about his date. "So, how did it go last night?"

Gabriel smiled widely. "Well, let's just say that the evening was anything but _chaste._ " He laughed at his own joke, and Castiel regretted asking.

They watched two episodes of Seinfeld while they waited for Jeopardy to start. Jeopardy was a family ritual that they'd had ever since the boys were little. Their father was a genius- in fact, he had made it to the final rounds of being a contestant on the show itself before having to back out at the last minute when an unavoidable problem cropped up at his job- so Castiel had always wondered at the way that his father seemed to know the answer to every question, every time. It became a personal point of pride when he began to know the answers himself. In the past few years, he'd gotten more right than his father. Now, he and Gabriel watched the show every night, with the silent understanding that they didn't need to talk about _why._

"Tower of Babel," Castiel called out. "What is the Tower of Babel?" A contestant rang in.

"Lucky guess," Gabriel said. Castiel scoffed.

"Krishna and Rama are both considered avatars of this Hindu God," Alex Trebek read.

"Vishnu," Castiel said. "Who is Vishnu," another contestant answered.

"How do you even know that?" Gabriel asked, clearly exasperated. Castiel just shrugged. Gabriel never got more answers correct than Castiel, but he never stopped trying.

He felt another buzz in his pocket, but this time it was a text message. He pulled the phone out and looked. It was from Meg. _Want to get dinner before this shindig?_ He replied, _Already ate. I can sit with you somewhere, though._ Castiel looked up and Gabriel was eyeing him. "It's just Meg," he insisted. "We're going out tonight."

"Ooh," Gabriel cooed. "Where ya goin'?"

"Some open mic night at a place called the Boobie Trap?" Castiel couldn't keep the question out of his voice.

"Oh, yeah," Gabriel replied. "I've been there. Seems like kind of a weird place for you to go. I didn't think dives were really your thing."

"They're not," Castiel said, and left it at that. He was more comfortable with lying by omission than outright lying. The final jeopardy question came on, then. "It was at the resurrection of this follower of Jesus that the famous phrase, 'Jesus wept,' was written into the narrative of the bible," Alex read. "Thirty seconds, players. Good luck."

"Lazarus," Castiel said, without hesitation. "I bet it all."

\--

It had been _hours,_ and Dean was starting to feel nervous and uncertain and a little stupid for what he'd said to Castiel. "That's awesome! I'd love to see some of your comics. Maybe you can make me into Batman ;)"

_A winky face. He'd actually used a winky face._ It was something he'd picked up from Charlie's texts- they were usually more emoticons than actual words. He unlocked the phone screen and navigated to the message thread, checking on the off chance that _maybe he hadn't made a total jackass of himself,_ but no such luck. There is was. A winky face. Dean tossed the phone to his side on the bed and put his arm over his eyes. He'd never felt this lack of confidence with girls. He hadn't even met the guy yet and he was feeling like a 12-year-old again, passing a note under the desk. _Do you like me? Check yes or no._

He had to do something or he was going to crawl out of his skin. He decided to call Benny. "Hey, brother," came the friendly, gruff voice on the other end. Benny was a high school friend. He'd moved into town from Louisiana after his mother had gotten a job in a nearby town. They had bonded over their mutual distaste for authority and their disdain for school in general. It had actually helped both of them having the other in class. It gave them something to look forward to. Dean had skipped less classes as a senior than he had as a freshman.

"Hey, Benny. You free? Want to shoot some pool or something?"

They decided to meet at Terry's, a smoky, grubby place with horrible, stale popcorn and a lingering scent of stale beer. It was their spot, though, and it was a welcome escape. "I'm goin' out," Dean had called to the house at large, and as he passed his siblings, he assured them that he was only going to see Benny, _yes, I swear, god, get out of my ass, would you?_

Dean spotted Benny at the third pool table, racking the balls. "Hey," he called, approaching the small circular table next to Benny and dropping his jacket on a chair.

"How you been, boy?" Benny asked. "Haven't talked to you in days."

"I've been alright," Dean replied. Sam and Charlie are being a pain in my ass, but otherwise I'm fine."

"Yeah, well, what else is new," Benny replied, and they shared a smile.

"Hey, you remember Aaron Bass?" Dean asked before he could stop himself.

"Uh," Benny faltered, eyes searching as he tried to place the name.

"He was in English with us senior year. The jewish kid."

"Oh, yeah," Benny replied, putting chalk on the tip of his cue. "What about him?"

Dean felt a burst of frantic energy as he cursed himself for bringing up the topic. "I, uh..." he invented wildly, "I ran into him the other day. We got to talkin', and it turns out that he is a serious douche." He felt okay leaving it at that. Benny laughed as he broke the triangular formation of the balls. A stripe went in. "Stripes," he announced. "Yeah, I always felt like somethin' was a little off about him."

Dean nodded, then remembered. "Oh, shit, speaking of which, you remember that crazy ass art teacher, Ms. Lester?" Benny nodded, knocking another striped ball into a pocket. "Sam and Charlie said they led her away in handcuffs. She was dealing to kids."

"Damn," Benny laughed. "Hey, you know that girl Lauren I sat next to in shop class?" And from there they launched into a comfortable reminiscence, Dean feeling relief as they steered away from the topic of Aaron and the heavy issues associated with him. Dean knew he would tell Benny someday. That day just wasn't today.

\--

Castiel agreed to meet Meg at Biggerson's, because it was cheap and easy and open 24 hours. He spent a considerable amount of time first, however, getting ready. He had excused himself after Jeopardy and closed his bedroom door. He checked the message from Dean and smiled wider than he had in a long time. "That's awesome! I'd love to see some of your comics. Maybe you can make me into Batman ;)" _I knew he was Batman,_ he thought. He started imagining BatDean, and it was fantastic.

He spent about twenty minutes opening and closing drawers, pulling stacks of clothes out of his closet, pulling things on only to tear them off again and throw them into an ever-increasing pile on the floor. He finally settled on the tight black shirt that Meg liked so much and a nice pair of jeans. He put in his contacts. He wanted to look like how he looked in his profile pictures, however misleading they may have been.

As he drove, he took the time to consider whether or not this was a terrible idea. He by no means felt prepared to meet some guy from the internet. He would have backed out completely if Meg hadn't agreed to come along. Castiel pulled into the Biggerson's parking lot and went inside, frowning at the generic middle-America-ness of the place. He chose a booth by the door and waited. Meg arrived a few minutes later, and took in Castiel's appearance with a wolf whistle. "Look at you, hottie." Castiel rolled his eyes at her, but smiled a little. "Sooo, are you ready to meet a boooy?" She dragged the last word out.

"No, not in the slightest," Castiel admitted. "I've been wondering if this is a terrible idea. Maybe we can just go home after this."

"No, nope, uh uh," Meg replied. "I am not gonna let you get this far just to back out. We're gonna go to the bar, and we're gonna listen to potentially crappy music, and you're gonna like it." There was no arguing with her.

Meg ordered her food, and Castiel ordered a water. He sipped it nervously, checking his phone every once in awhile. _9:14. 9:26. 9:31._ "We should get going," he announced at 9:43. Meg paid in cash and they left in his car. It was only a 10-minute drive to the venue, but Castiel liked to be early. He thrummed his fingers on the steering wheel anxiously until Meg batted his hand away. "It's gonna be _fine,_ " she assured him. "What's the worst that could happen?"

It turned out the worst that could happen is that Cody's band was _terrible._ Castiel had coerced Meg into taking a seat at the very back of the room, in a dark corner where they couldn't be seen. He had spotted Cody wandering around the stage, checking mics and plugging cords into amps. "Is that him?" Meg had whispered, and Castiel had nodded severely. "Ginger," was her reply. Castiel had nothing to say about that. After a few minutes, four guys in their mid-to-late twenties had arranged themselves on the stage, each wearing nearly identical, carefully blasé outfits. Suspenders. Ironic mustaches. "These guys are super hipsterific," Meg noted. Their music matched. It was, seemingly, an amalgamation of the day's hottest Americana acts, plus a little odd punk shouting and minus all of the talent. After two songs, they had ducked out.

"Well, that was horrible," Castiel said, and Meg laughed. "You sure know how to pick 'em, hot stuff."

"I'm sure he was a very nice person. I hate to judge him solely on this, but..." Castiel trailed off, waving a hand in the air.

"It would be hard not to," Meg finished for him.

He dropped her off at her car, and told her that he was tired. She hugged him and told him she was sorry that the evening had been a bust. "It's actually okay," Castiel said. "I'm actually kind of relieved."


	8. Misunderstandings

Castiel's sleep was dreamless but fitful, and he awoke to discover that he'd somehow tossed his pillows off the bed and had effectively slept flat on his back all night. His bones creaked unpleasantly when he reached down to grab the discarded pillows, placing two of them back underneath his head and one between his knees, willing the ache in his spine to go away.

He had gone straight home after dropping Meg off at Biggerson's, and had been intercepted by Gabriel as he tried to sneak up to his bedroom. "You're home early," Gabriel's mischievous voice had come from behind him. In the kitchen. Eating ice cream. _Of course._

Castiel turned and yawned for effect. "Yeah, the music was kind of terrible, and I was exhausted, so we just left."

"Nice outfit," Gabriel raised an eyebrow, giving Castiel an up-and-down with his spoon.

"Umm, yeah," he'd said, looking down at what he realized was far too nice an ensemble for a night out at a dive bar. "Meg insisted I wear it. She um." He faltered. "You know her."

Gabriel had narrowed his eyes skeptically, but nodded.

"Welll, I'm off to bed. Night," Castiel had said, and headed up the stairs. He could feel his brother's eyes on his back as he went.

He'd decided to message Dean back before he went to sleep, wanting the evening to be good for something. "I'd love to make you BatDean. I'll work on some sketches ;)" He'd never used a winky face before, and he felt childish doing so, but for some reason it felt right to return the gesture, however juvenile and silly it felt. He liked that Dean made him feel a little silly.

As he'd drifted off to sleep, he'd heard the faint buzz of a reply message come through, but couldn't bring himself out of the deep throws of slumber enough to check it.

He remembered, suddenly, and rolled over to grab his phone. It was after 11:00, and he had two emails. One from the company in charge of the corporate party that night- _crap,_ he'd almost forgotten- reminding him that the party began at 5:30 at the Comfort Inn and Suites Grand Ballroom. He groaned, but dutifully sent back a reply email saying that, yes, he'd be there. The second email was the notification of a message from POF. He opened it. "Hell yes," Dean wrote. "So what do you like to do, man? What do you get up to in Topeka?"

He laughed a little to himself. _Not much,_ he thought, but didn't want to sound boring. "A little of this, a little of that. I like to read and watch movies. We have some cool art museums over here where you can get in free if you're a student, which, technically I'm not anymore, but they don't ever check the dates on your student ID. I went to this terrible open mic night last night. Think Mumford and Sons, crossed with Fall Out Boy, crossed with some screamo band, minus any musical talent. But I guess that's Topeka for you."

He didn't really know why he'd brought up his terrible night, other than wanting to laugh about how awful it had been (and to make sure that Dean wasn't into MumfordFOBscreamo mashup bands.) Castiel hoped that Cody wouldn't ask him about it. He never did.

\--

Dean had tried not to think about Castiel all night. He really had. He'd enjoyed playing pool with Benny (from whom he'd won twenty bucks in a bet. The stupid Cajun son of a bitch would never learn). They'd laughed and swapped stories and thrown stale popcorn around. But Castiel was in the back of his mind the whole time. _God, did I blow it? What a stupid fucking thing to do. Seriously, who writes a winky face?_ By the time he's gotten home around 11, he'd almost resigned himself to writing another message. _"Sorry about that earlier... my 16-year-old-sister stole my phone,"_ or something like that. Fortunately, he was spared the effort when a message came through. "I'd love to make you BatDean. I'll work on some sketches ;)" He breathed a sigh of relief. _Maybe people just used winky faces on the internet._ He'd have to discuss the matter with Sam and Charlie. Maybe.

"Hell yes," he wrote. He really was excited about being made into a comic, and BatDean sounded _awesome._ "So what do you like to do, man? What do you get up to in Topeka?" After brushing his teeth and changing out of his clothes, he waited about fifteen minutes for a reply, and then fell asleep with the phone in his hand.

He woke up to a knock on his door, loud and insistent. "Wha?" He grumbled.

"Dean, wake up. We missed the bus," Sam called through the door. Dean groaned and pulled the covers up over his eyes. "Dean!"

"Okay, alright, I'm up!" he growled, and rolled out of bed. He pulled on the same clothes from yesterday and rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he trudged out the door. "Coffee. Now," he pointed at the pot.

"Get your own coffee," Sam scoffed.

Dean made a noise sort of like a growl and made his way over to the coffee pot. After a few minutes of clumsiness, and with no less than a few glares and foot-taps from Sam and Charlie, Dean had the coffee going. He poured himself a mug, dropped two ice cubes into it, and chugged the whole thing. "Let's go," he said.

Charlie and Sam were both old enough to drive, but neither were allowed to drive the Impala. It was technically the family's only car, but John Winchester usually drove an old beater to and from work, leaving his kids access to the Impala as a ride. His one condition was that Dean- and _only_ Dean- was allowed to drive it. It was something of a point of pride, usually, that his father entrusted him with the precious Baby. Today, however, Dean almost wished they'd just drive themselves to school.

They knew better than to talk to Dean this early in the morning, so Sam and Charlie sat in the back seat together, conversing quietly. _"Dude, did you see that thing I put on facebook about the new Harry Potter movies?"_

_"Um, _hello,_ do you even know who you're talking to? I practically directed them myself."_

__laughter_ _

_"How awesome would it be if they made prequels instead?"_

_"Like with the Marauders?"_

_"Yes! Oh my god, yes."_

_"Yeah, that'd be great."_

Dean actually had an opinion on the subject, but he was in no mood to speak. He wanted to be back in bed. Now. He dropped the kids at the front entrance and rolled away without saying goodbye.

When he got home, he tossed himself back into bed before the caffeine could hit his system and slept heavily.

\--

He awoke to his phone vibrating, and for a split second he thought he was back in high school and it was his alarm going off. He sighed as he realized where he was and what year it was and pushed open one eye to look at his phone. It was a new message from Castiel. He closed his eyes and let a small smile pull at his cheeks.

"A little of this, a little of that," it read. "I like to read and watch movies. We have some cool art museums over here where you can get in free if you're a student, which, technically I'm not anymore, but they don't ever check the dates on your student ID. I went to this terrible open mic night last night. Think Mumford and Sons, crossed with Fall Out Boy, crossed with some screamo band, minus any musical talent. But I guess that's Topeka for you."

Dean laughed and closed his eyes again, pressing the phone into his chest. He could indulge in such gestures when he was alone. He replied, "Ouch. Mark me down for never going to an open mic night in Topeka. Or an open mic night ever. So you like to read and go to museums, huh? Man, you'd get along with my little brother."

A minute later, a reply came. "Oh yeah? If he likes books and art, I like him already. Do you have any other siblings?"

"Yeah, a little sister. They're both 16. It's hell. Drag me away from teenagers forever. I had to drive them to school today because they missed the bus. I'm fucking exhausted. Just woke up actually. How are you today?"

Dean decided it was time to get out of his day-old clothes and take a shower.

\--

Dean's reply came almost immediately, before Castiel had pulled himself from the bed. "Ouch. Mark me down for never going to an open mic night in Topeka. Or an open mic night ever." That part was sort of adorable, and came as a relief. "So you like to read and go to museums, huh? Man, you'd get along with my little brother."

"Oh yeah?" Castiel typed back. "If he likes books and art, I like him already. Do you have any other siblings?"

A moment later, "Yeah, a little sister." _Oh, right,_ Castiel thought, remembering reading about them in Dean's profile. "They're both 16. It's hell. Drag me away from teenagers forever. I had to drive them to school today because they missed the bus. I'm fucking exhausted. Just woke up actually. How are you today?"

The question made Castiel smile in an entirely unfamiliar way, and it was pleasant. "Sorry to hear that. Siblings are definitely a pain. I live with my older brother, Gabriel, and let me tell you. He might not be 16 anymore, but you'd never know it from the way he acts sometimes. I'm well. Just woke up myself, actually. As you can imagine, it was a long night." He waited a minute after hitting send, but when no response came, he pulled himself out of bed and got ready for the day.

Gabriel was, thankfully, at work, so Castiel was able to move about the house freely. He grabbed his old sketchbook and Prismacolor markers and headed for the kitchen. While he waited for the water for his tea to boil, he practiced a few caricatures. Easy ones, to start, like President Obama (big ears and teeth,) Clint Eastwood (squinty eyes,) and Angelina Jolie (lips, obviously.) But as he relaxed down into the loveseat with his tea and his markers, he decided to challenge himself and draw real people. He started with Meg. He emphasized her wavy hair, her heart-shaped face, and her ever-present smirk. The result was pretty good, he thought. He took a picture of it and sent it to his friend. _You like?_ He asked.

_Nice,_ came her reply. _What's that for?_

_I've been asked to do caricatures at a corporate party tonight,_ Castiel replied. _Are you free? Please don't make me go alone._

_Can't, busy,_ Meg's text bounced back, and Castiel sighed. He should have asked her sooner. _Fiiine,_ he replied.

_u talk to hottie mcfreckles today?_ She asked.

_A little._ He didn't elaborate. He kind of had that feeling, once again, that he wanted to keep this to himself- that the small pang of happiness in his chest should be sheltered and nurtured, away from the firestorm that was Meg. Castiel hummed tunelessly to himself as he sipped his tea and drew caricatures of his friends and family. The party tonight was going to suck, but he couldn't seem to care.

\--

Dean decided to grill himself a burger for lunch once he'd gotten out of the shower. It was nice outside- the heat of the summer giving way to a blissful September autumn. Dean looked around the yard and considered raking the leaves. It was a nice, relaxing chore that he had always enjoyed. Plus, he knew his dad would get onto him to do it eventually. When he had finished his burger, he set off for the rusty wood shed at the side of the house and grabbed the rake.

Since he was still unaccustomed to having to carry his phone around at all times, Dean didn't notice the reply message from Castiel until several hours after it came, when the leaves were in three neat piles at the back and sides of the house. He finally went inside, poured himself a glass of ice water, and plopped down on the couch. It was almost 3:00, which meant that Dr. Sexy would be coming on any minute. Dean checked his phone, finally, while he waited for the preceding show to end.

"Sorry to hear that," Castiel's message read. "Siblings are definitely a pain. I live with my older brother, Gabriel, and let me tell you. He might not be 16 anymore, but you'd never know it from the way he acts sometimes. I'm well. Just woke up myself, actually. As you can imagine, it was a long night." Dean checked the time stamp. The message had come in at 11:14. He punched in a reply as quickly as he could using his limited, grandfatherly one-finger texting method.

"Brothers are a pain in the ass. Anyway, sorry it took so long to reply, I got caught up raking leaves. What are you up to?" It felt so nice, so natural to talk to Castiel this way, as if they already knew each other. It was easy to imagine that they were already real-life friends, not just virtual strangers who hadn't even heard one another speak. Dean thought about that for a moment. _Wonder what his voice sounds like? He's kinda small, maybe his voice is, too. God, I hope he doesn't have that annoying, high-pitched voice I hate so much._ His train of thought was interrupted by Dr. Sexy making an appearance in his cowboy boots. Dean was transfixed.

During the next commercial break, Dean checked his phone again and saw that a reply had come through. "Just getting ready for this party tonight. I probably won't be able to talk while I'm there." Dean's heart sank. _Great, another partier. Just what he needed._ He felt disappointed to have gotten his hopes up, but _of course_ this guy would have been the type to go partying. Because why wouldn't he? No one would be able to fit into Dean's impossibly narrow box of acceptable dating companions. He sighed, thinking of the disaster date he'd been on with Aaron, and fired off a curt response. "Great. Have fun with that." He tossed the phone onto the coffee table and sank back into the comfort of Dr. Sexy.

\--

"Great. Have fun with that." Castiel wondered if he were imagining the dismissive tone of Dean's latest message. He read their string of conversation again. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Everything had been fine until that last message. It seemed oddly out of character, from what little he knew of Dean. _Maybe he's still doing housework. He must be busy,_ Castiel decided. "Oh yeah, I'll have a blast," Castiel typed back, hoping to catch Dean up with his sarcastic remark. "I'll talk to you later."

It was nearing the time he'd have to leave, so he started getting ready. He put on a nice, neutral button-up shirt and picked up his brand new sketchbook- the one with perforated pages for easy tearing. He carefully placed his markers back into the simple black case and closed it and his book up in a leather portfolio. It was a little much, maybe, for a small corporate party, but Castiel liked to look his best at all times. Job opportunities were scarce, and he couldn't afford to be caught unawares if one presented itself. He was out the door by 5:00, and at 5:21 he arrived at the Comfort Inn with his portfolio and his professional outfit and his pasted-on smile.

After two hours of very unfulfilling caricature drawing, Castiel sat with his head in his hand, leaning over his phone. He assumed that anyone who would want a caricature would have approached him by now. Almost everyone was drunk and dancing or flirting or looking absolutely miserable, and it was profoundly sad. He double-checked his POF inbox. No message from Dean. He wanted to talk to him again- wanted that charming, lilting conversation to fill in the blanks in his awful evening- but didn't want to push. Instead, he spent the next hour and a half scrolling through facebook and sitting idly, trying not to cringe at the intoxicated worker bees around him. They sent him home around 9:00, and he graciously accepted the check for $100 and left.

Castiel sat in his car in his driveway, wanting to talk to Dean, but knowing that Gabriel would somehow ensnare him and trap him into a conversation as soon as he walked in the door. He left the radio on in the background, affording a peaceful soundtrack to his romantic-comedy life. "Back from the party. It was awful. One of those post-work corporate team-building we'll-get-you-wasted-and-offer-you-free-food-if-you-don't-go-postal things. Adults are sad. I'm terrified of becoming one. Anyway, I got $100 bucks out of it, so I guess I can't complain too much." 

He waited a minute before he felt a buzz. Dean. His heart skipped a beat. The reply just said one word. "Chat?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update, guys! I promise they'll actually talk in the next chapter. Promise.


	9. Chat? Pt. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ended up being pretty long so I'm splitting it in two. Hopefully the second half won't take so long to update. Sorry about that... again.
> 
> Also, huge and sincere thanks for the lovely comments so far! You guys are wonderful and I love you and I'm so glad you're liking it so far.
> 
> (Side-note, I'm kind of demonizing ((yes demonizing, no not literally demonizing)) Lisa Braden here, and I don't really know why. Nothing against Lisa. It just fit the narrative. No Lisa disrespect meant.)
> 
> ((Second side-note, in this scenario I'm choosing to believe that Charlie wouldn't be out yet, or may not even know she's gay yet, so she doesn't discuss her own sexuality. Maybe her brother's coming out will be the spark that begins her quest for discovering her sexual identity. Perhaps.))
> 
> Enjoy!

Charlie was in his room again, and he couldn't bring himself to turn her away. She had sensed his sour mood as soon as she and Sam gotten home from school, and despite Dean's protestations, she was there, trying to cheer him up without getting into any touchy-feely chick-flick discussions about _feelings._ She knew just how to work him.

"Sooo," Charlie began, feigning nonchalance as she twirled a shock of her bright red hair around a finger, "we still don't have an art teacher. It's getting ridiculous. They keep throwing subs at us who have like no artistic background, and all we do is color and stuff. With _crayons._ " This earned a smile from her brother, so she continued. "A lot of people are about to drop the class and do something else. Anything else. I don't really mind it, but you know how much I like to color." Dean actually snorted at this, which Charlie took as an encouraging sign. He was lying on his back on the bed, hands clasped over his ribs, staring at the ceiling as if there were more than popcorn coating and plaster there. Charlie kicked her legs against the side of the bed, like she used to when she was little and could barely touch the floor. She'd finally decided to bite the bullet and ask her brother what was wrong, but Dean beat her to the chase.

"I'm fine, Charlie," he almost whispered, and Charlie would have been surprised at his near psychic abilities if they hadn't gone through this exact same scenario months earlier when Lisa had broken up with Dean. Except he hadn't been fine then, and Charlie was guessing he wasn't fine now.

"Is it the guy? Dreamy blue-eyed guy whose name is too hard to remember?"

"Castiel," Dean supplied, and that was answer enough.

"What happened?" Charlie asked, not looking at her brother, not making any sudden movements, not wanting to scare him off. Despite the fact that Dean one of the biggest, strongest, toughest men Charlie knew, he was also the most sensitive. It was frustrating at times. His moods could swing worse than even hers, and that was saying something, considering she was a sixteen-year-old girl.

Dean was silent for a moment, but eventually he sighed and massaged his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. "Nothing happened, it's stupid. I'm just being an ass, probably. As usual."

Charlie let out an exasperated groan at her brother's perpetual self-deprication. "Seriously, whatever's wrong, just talk to me. Maybe it's not as stupid as you think." She finally allowed herself to look at her brother, and she could see how tired he looked. It was sad to see him this way. He was usually so confident, so self-assured. He hadn't been himself since… well, since Lisa. Charlie just wanted him to be happy again.

Dean met his sister's eyes, finally conceding that maybe talking about it would help. Besides, he knew she wasn't going to drop it, so he might as well get it over with. "The dude said he was going to a party tonight."

Charlie tried her best not to give him a pitying look. "Maybe it's just a birthday party or something harmless like that?" She said. "Not everyone is gonna be a drugged out alcoholic nightmare, Dean."

"Yeah, not everyone, but a lot of people my age. Especially the hot gay ones. Haven't you watched Queer as Folk?"

Charlie laughed. "Oh my god, um, yes, but I didn't know you had. GOD why didn't you tell me you were queer sooner? We could have been having so much fun, talking about boys, painting each other’s nails-" Dean shoved his little sister off the bed, and she lay there on the floor cackling. He couldn't help but let a smile curl his mouth, even though he tried to suppress it.

"You're a pain in the ass, Charlie," Dean said, but he reached down to grab her wrist and help her to her feet, anyway.

"Maybe, but you love me," she replied, curling one leg beneath her as she resumed her spot on the bed. "Anyway. Is that what you're afraid of? That he's gonna turn out to be like… that he'll be the way she was?"

Dean shrugged again, pulling at a loose thread on the hem of his shirt. It was Lisa, again. It had all come down to Lisa. Their relationship hadn't even lasted six months, and he was a basket case because of it. They'd fallen hard and fast- they'd moved in together in only two months' time. Dean had opened up to her in a way he had never allowed himself to before, and she had seemed every bit the sweet, loving individual that he thought she was, until about two months later, when she started to show her true colors. She started going out with friends, binge drinking, doing god knows what kind of drugs at parties, leaving Dean with the fear that she might not make it home safely. Eventually, she had broken it off. Quickly. Casually. Like it was nothing. "I don't want to have to worry about you all the time," she'd said. Like he'd been a burden. "You can be a little much," she'd accused. Like his decision to finally be honest and open with his affections was smothering. It had hit Dean hard, and had caused him to revert to his old ways. Hiding his feelings. Protecting himself.

Charlie took a deep breath and let it out, kicking her feet again. "Well," she began, "if he is like that, then it's totally gross. _But,_ I happen to remember from his profile that he said he liked being at home with a book more than being out at a bar? That sounds encouraging, right?"

"Sounds like Sam," Dean said, the corner of his mouth twitching up a bit.

"Yeah, it sounds like someone who's introverted. Shy, maybe. I think whatever party he's going to is probably just a normal party." She glanced sideways at Dean, and noticed that his intense gaze seemed to have softened. "If he's anything at all like Sam, he's probably sitting in the corner, hating every minute of it."

"He did say something…" Dean trailed off and fished his phone out of his pocket. “ _Just getting ready for this party tonight,_ ” he read, " _won't be able to talk for awhile,_ I said, _great, have fun with that,_ he said, _oh yeah, I'll have a blast._ "

"Sounds kinda sarcastic to me," Charlie noted. "Alright, come on," Charlie patted his leg and stood up. "Come help me make dinner. Dad'll be home soon and I told him we'd make mashed potatoes and you _know_ how frustrating it is trying to peel those potatoes with my tiny hands." She spread her fingers wide as a demonstration, and kept rambling on about dinner preparations. Dean knew she was just trying to get him out of his room and away from his thoughts. Fortunately, it worked.

\--

It was several hours later, and the three Winchester kids were watching _Return of the King_ on Blue Ray in the den. Charlie was wedged in-between her two brothers, leaning against Sam's comparatively giant side, with her cold feet burrowed under Dean's legs. All three wore similar expressions of sadness and a certain knowing anguish, because they were coming up on the part where Denethor asks Pippin to sing. There was a collective intake of breath as Billy Boyd's beautiful tenor filled the room, and the siege on Osgiliath raged on silently in the background. Dean felt a strange burning sensation in his eye that was _definitely_ not a tear. Thankfully, his siblings were apparently similarly engrossed, and so no one looked at anyone else.

Dean felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, but he waited to check it until the scene was over. "Gets me every time," Charlie sighed when the song was through. It got Dean every time, too, but he'd never admit it. He pulled his phone from his pocket, and was both excited and nervous to see a new message from Castiel. He noticed Charlie watching him out of the corner of his eye as he read. _Back from the party. It was awful. One of those post-work corporate team-building we'll-get-you-wasted-and-offer-you-free-food-if-you-don't-go-postal things. Adults are sad. I'm terrified of becoming one. Anyway, I got $100 bucks out of it, so I guess I can't complain too much._ Dean's face must have betrayed his confusion, because Charlie nudged him with her foot and asked, "what's up?"

Sam shushed her, and Charlie elbowed him in the hip.

"Uh…" Dean trailed off, re-reading the message. "I'll be in my room."

Charlie followed him there and shut the door.

"What? What did he say?" She asked, and Dean was too mentally preoccupied to tell her to get out, so she took the opportunity to sit next to him on the bed and read the message over his shoulder. "What does that even mean?" She asked.

"No idea," Dean replied, reading the part about the $100 again, wondering what the heck that meant.

"Okay, you're getting nowhere with this slower-than-molasses one-fingered messaging. Why don't you chat with him?" Charlie suggested. "I'll give you my laptop. You can type with _all_ of your fingers." Dean hesitated, screwing up his face in uncertainty. "Come _on_ , Charlie insisted, "you know it's gonna bug you all night and probably most of tomorrow and then you're not going to be able to focus on work and dad is going to ask you what's wrong and you're gonna get in a fight with him and-"

"Okay FINE!" Dean cut her off. Charlie just grinned and left to get her laptop. With twitching, unsure fingers, Dean replied, _Chat?_

\--

Several minutes passed, and Dean finally found himself propped up against the wall on his bed with Charlie's neon green computer on his lap. Castiel's reply had come about thirty seconds after his chat invitation. _Yeah, let me get inside and get my computer. Five minutes._ "Well, go on," Charlie said. Her face was a little too eager for Dean's liking.

"Just… let me do this, alright?" he growled. He was more nervous than he wanted to allow his little sister to see, but he was also glad she was there, even though he'd be damned before he'd ever show it. He kept up a front of annoyed, yet confident determination as he logged on to POF and navigated to Castiel's profile. He let the cursor hover over the "chat" button for a few seconds, and then exhaled and clicked.

A pop-up window showed his profile picture and Castiel's on the right, with a blank space to type at the bottom. The cursor was blinking expectantly.

Dean [9:38 p.m.]: Hey.

"That's a good start," Charlie joked, and Dean swatted her on the shoulder without looking up. Then:

Castiel [9:38 p.m.]: Hello Dean.

Dean let out a noise that might have been "pheww," and typed.

Dean [9:38 p.m.]: How are you doin?

Castiel [9:39 p.m.]: I'm well, thank you. And you?

"Wow, so formal," Charlie remarked. "I think we can safely say from his use of capitalization and punctuation that he is neither drunk nor high." Dean silently agreed, and felt a little encouraged at the thought.

Dean [9:39 p.m.]: I'm good. So what's the deal with this party thing?

An ellipses blinked on the screen for a moment, indicating that Castiel was typing.

Castiel [9:40 p.m.]: I was hired by this company to come to their corporate party to draw caricatures. I'm on this freelancing site where companies or private businesses can hire graphic designers or illustrators for contract jobs, so I suppose they found me there. It was one of those after-work mixers and everyone was very drunk and very dull and I only drew a few caricatures, in the end. But I was being paid by the hour, so it wasn't a total waste.

Dean read the paragraph with a laugh. "Caricatures. He was drawing caricatures. That's so awesome." Charlie grinned and elbowed him playfully in the ribs.  
"See? Told ya," she said, and Dean enthusiastically typed a reply.

Dean [9:42 p.m.]: Oh, that's cool. It's awesome that you draw stuff.

Dean immediately felt dumb for his unoriginal phrasing, but his thoughts were cut off by Charlie, saying, "Tell him why you were such a jerk before." Dean rolled his eyes and complied.

Dean [9:42 p.m.]: Sorry I was kind of an asshole before. When you said you were going to a party, I thought you meant a party party, like getting wasted, dancing on the table kind of thing.

"Happy?" Dean asked his sister, whose satisfied smile was answer enough. He watched the little ellipses blinking on the screen.

Castiel [9:43 p.m.]: Haha, no. I hate parties. Partying. All things party-related. I also don't drink, so there's that.

Dean breathed a sigh of relief. 

Dean [9:43 p.m.]: Oh, good. I mean, like, good that you don't drink. I don't either.

"Is this guy real?" Charlie asked. "Are you sure you're not being catfished? Like 100%?"

"I don't know, man," Dean replied. "I hope he’s real."

Dean [9:44 p.m.]: My little sister thinks you're a catfish, whatever that means

Castiel [9:45 p.m.]: Hahaha. Oh my god. My friend Meg thought the same thing about you. It means she thinks I'm some weirdo pretending to be a 21-year-old non-drinking artist.  
Castiel [9:45 p.m.]: I can assure you, I am indeed a 21-year-old non-drinking artist, although I can't promise you that I'm not a weirdo.

Dean actually laughed aloud at that.

Dean [9:45 p.m.]: I'm okay with that. Seems to me like you're the good kind of weird.

"Maybe, just to be safe," Charlie suggested, feigning innocence, "he should send you a picture of himself holding a sign that says, you know, _hey Dean, it's me, Castiel, I'm not some 60-year-old lady_ or something?" Dean laughed again.

Dean [9:46 p.m.]: Charlie suggested that you take a picture of yourself holding a sign to prove that you're who you say you are.

Castiel [9:46 p.m.]: Charlie?

Dean [9:47 p.m.]: Sister. She's being nosy. Sorry.

Dean turned to give Charlie a pointed glare, but she was totally unapologetic. "I'm just trying to help," she said, shrugging a bit. "Aaand, if it gets you a picture of a cute boy, then, hey, it's worth it, right?" Dean returned his attention to the screen, but there was no blinking ellipsis.

"Shit," he said under his breath. "Fuck, I hope you didn't scare him away." But a moment later, a message came across the screen.

_Castiel would like to share a photo. Accept?_

Charlie's eyes went wide and she began shoving Dean's arm back and forth impatiently. "Yesyesyes say yes hit 'accept' yes yes do it!" Dean hit "accept." And there was Castiel, in a cute button-down shirt, black hair a mess, cautious blue eyes hidden behind black-rimmed glasses. He looked as if he didn't exactly know what to do with his face, so he had opted for a sort of half-confused, one-eyebrow-cocked, questioning smirk. He held a handwritten sign that said, "Dean, look, I'm me." _He was fucking adorable._

Charlie was mumbling something about _oh my god he's so stinking cute I can't even,_ but Dean didn't really hear her. Another message came through.

Castiel [9:50 p.m.]: Your turn.

"Ha!" Charlie barked out a laugh. "I like him. He's got spunk. You should marry him." Dean didn't dignify that with a response.

"Get me some paper and a pen, would ya?" He shoved her. A minute later, she returned with a piece of notebook paper (college-ruled, probably from one of her notebooks from school) but no pen. She flopped back down onto Dean's bed and held the paper at arm's length, showing him a scrawl in hot pink marker. "Hello, my name is Dean Winchester and I'm not a 60 year old lady." Dean laughed and took the paper from her, posing as Charlie set up the computer to take a photo. 

"Say cheese," she said, and the webcam snapped a photo. Dean had opted for his "blue steel" face. It looked ridiculous and perfect. He hit send and waited.

\--

Castiel had _almost_ successfully avoided Gabe when he rushed into the house. Almost.

Dean wanted to chat, and he could feel the flush creeping up his neck at the prospect. He hurried up the first flight of stairs, into the house, and began to ascend the second flight when he heard his brother's voice. "Cassie? How was the thing?"

Castiel hesitated, sighing, and continued up the stairs, calling back over his shoulder, "thing was good, can't talk."

He heard Gabriel say something in return, but couldn't tell what. Once in the safety of his bedroom, Castiel discarded his bag, shut the door, and pulled out his computer. He could feel his fingers thrumming with nervous anticipation as he navigated to the Plenty of Fish website and saw the blinking indicator that showed that he had a chat request waiting.

_Hey,_ the message said, and Castiel thought that there was possibly no better message he'd ever read. He instantly felt ridiculous, but began to feel less so once they got into a conversation. Dean seemed just as nervous as he was, and he didn't drink either, and he was close with his little sister. It was perfect. Castiel sent a text to Meg saying so. _Catfish, probs,_ came her reply, and Castiel laughed when Dean mentioned that Charlie thought the same thing about him.

Dean asked for a picture, and Castiel felt his heart hammering in his throat again. _Charlie?_ he asked, buying time.

_What's the harm?_ He asked himself. _He's already seen my face._ He opted to scrawl out, "Dean, look, I'm me," on the back of an old sketchbook, and went to the bathroom with his phone to take a selfie. He took his glasses off the first few times, but eventually became annoyed with having to put them back on to see the picture, only to take them off again. He ended up just leaving them on. It took him eight tries to capture the perfect, seemingly effortless yet totally deep-down unsure smirk, and once he was satisfied, he settled back on his downy comforter and transferred the photo from his phone to his computer.

He was too nervous to wait for a response from Dean about his appearance, so he deflected by asking for reciprocating photo evidence. A few minutes later, he received the reply picture, and was not disappointed. There was Dean- ridiculously sauve, adorably-freckled, making a silly face. "Hello, my name is Dean Winchester and I'm not a 60 year old lady," the paper read. He laughed, and shot off a text to Meg. _Not a catfish. Definitely a very real, very cute boy._ It sounded silly, but he didn’t mind.

Castiel [9:55 p.m.]: Nice face, Zoolander.

Dean [9:55 p.m.]: You’re awesome dude

Castiel laughed again, out loud. His face was starting to hurt from smiling so much, and it wasn’t about to stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More to come soon, promise*!
> 
> *Okay, promise with my fingers crossed behind my back.


	10. Chat? Pt. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, the second half of the chat! I hope you enjoy.

“He recognized the Blue Steel, dude,” Dean said, gesturing to the laptop screen to illustrate his point.  
   
“You should marry him,” Charlie laughed, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Just sayin’.”  
   
Dean couldn’t conceal his grin. “First of all, we’re in a red state, and secondly, one thing at a time.”  
   
Dean [9:56 p.m.]: I like your glasses, by the way  
Dean [9:56 p.m.]: I thought you didn’t really wear them, like it was one of those hipster things  
Dean [9:56 p.m.]: Charlie does that sometimes.  
   
“Hey!” Charlie shoved him again. “I’m not a hipster.”  
   
“No, you’re just a nerd,” Dean countered, watching the blinking ellipsis on the screen.  
   
Castiel [9:57 p.m.]: Oh, thank you.  I feel like they’re a little too nerdy, perhaps?  
   
Dean [9:57 p.m.]: Nah, I like em. You’ve got that sexy librarian thing going on.  
   
“Smoooth, Winchester,” Charlie cooed.  
   
“I know, I’m adorable,” Dean said. It was a moment before a response came.  
   
Castiel [9:58 p.m.]: Wow. Thank you.  
   
Dean [9:58 p.m.]: You don’t have to thank me, Castiel. I mean it.  
Dean [9:58 p.m.]: Hey, can I ask you something? This is gonna sound weird  
   
Castiel [9:58 p.m.]: Of course.  
   
Dean [9:58 p.m.]: How do you even pronounce that? We’ve been going with something like Cas-teel over here but Sam thought it might be Casty-el and Charlie thought maybe Cast-ial or some shit  
   
Castiel [9:59 p.m.]: Don’t worry, no one gets it right the first time. The first day of school was always a mess. Sam was right, it’s pronounced cas-tee-EL, emphasis on the last syllable.  
   
Dean and Charlie both tested it out. _CastiEL. CastiEL._ “That’s a mouthful,” Dean noted, and Charlie nodded her agreement.  
   
Dean [10:00 p.m.]: You mind if I just call you Cas?  
   
Castiel [10:00 p.m.]: No, that’s fine. It’s certainly better than my other nickname.  
   
Dean [10:00 p.m.]: What’s that?  
   
Castiel [10:00 p.m.]: My brother calls me “Cassie.”  
   
Dean guffawed. “Okay, now _that’s_ funny.”  
   
Dean [10:00 p.m.]: That’s awesome  
Dean [10:00 p.m.]: Sorry. I won’t call you Cassie.  
   
Castiel [10:00 p.m.]: Thank you. Cas is definitely preferable.  
Castiel [10:00 p.m.]: I will assume I can still call you “Dean.”  
    
Dean [10:00 p.m.]: Dean’s good.  
   
Castiel [10:01 p.m.]: Dean Winchester. You don’t have a facebook?  
   
Dean [10:01 p.m.]: No facebook. No spaceplace or myface or twitter or blog or any of that crap. I’m not really a fan of technology.  
   
Castiel [10:01 p.m.]: Yet, you seem to be faring remarkably well at online dating.  
   
“He has a point,” Charlie remarked, pulling her knees up to her chest.  
   
Dean looked like he’d forgotten she was there, and rounded on her. “Alright, missy. Time for bed.”  
   
“But it’s only 10:00!” She argued, making a pouty face that nearly rivaled Sam’s kicked-puppy look. Dean didn’t back down, though, so Charlie allowed herself to be ushered to the door, where she stood for a moment, biting her lip and blushing.  
   
“What?” Dean asked, bristling a bit at her weird display of emotion, hoping to side-step an awkward conversation.  
   
“Just um…” Charlie began, looking down at the floor and then back up at Dean. “I’m happy for you. I’m happy you’re happy. But I think maybe you should tell him about Lisa. He deserves to know.” She gave a half-smile, and Dean nodded once in acknowledgement.  
   
“I’ll leave the computer in the den for you after I’m done,” he managed, and then, as she was leaving, “thanks.” They exchanged smiles again, and Dean closed the door behind her.  
   
Dean [10:04 p.m.]: Sorry, I kicked my sister out. Where were we?  
Castiel [10:04 p.m.]: Online dating.  
   
Dean [10:04 p.m.]: Right. This your first time? Uh. Chatting?  
   
Castiel [10:04 p.m.]: No, it’s the second. The first was with the guy from the band that I told you about.  
   
Dean [10:04 p.m.]: Oh right. What was it? Falloutboymumfordhipstercrap?  
   
Castiel [10:04 p.m.]: Haha. Something like that.  
Castiel [10:05 p.m.]: Needless to say, it wasn’t very successful.  
Castiel [10:05 p.m.]: How about you?  
   
Dean [10:05 p.m.]: What, chatting? It’s my first time  
   
Castiel [10:05 p.m.]: Are you new to this? Online dating?  
   
Dean [10:05 p.m.]: Yeah  
Dean [10:06 p.m.]: Hey uh  
Dean [10:06 p.m.]: My sister thought I should tell you something. It’s not a big deal, but she’s right, you deserve to know. I just got over a pretty bad break up. It’s been a few months and I’m totally over it now, but you know. Thought you should know.  
   
Castiel [10:06 p.m.]: Oh. That’s fine. I’m glad you’re okay now.  
   
Dean [10:06 p.m.]: Thanks. Yeah, I’m fine. She was kind of… well, I’m over it.  
   
Castiel [10:07 p.m.]: So, you’re bisexual then? Or… I don’t mean to assume.  
   
Dean [10:07 p.m.]: I guess? I dunno, I like girls sometimes still.  
   
Castiel [10:07 p.m.]: So you’re like a Kinsey 4 or 5.  
   
Dean [10:07 p.m.]: I have no idea what that is  
   
Castiel [10:07 p.m.]: The Kinsey Scale?  
   
Dean racked his brain for recognition of the term, but came up empty-handed. Sammy would know about it, he felt sure. He decided to google it.  
   
 _The Kinsey scale, also called the Heterosexual–Homosexual Rating Scale, attempts to describe a person's sexual experience or response at a given time,_ he read. _It uses a scale from 0, meaning exclusively heterosexual, to 6, meaning exclusively homosexual._  
   
 _Ah._  
   
Dean [10:09 p.m.]: Yeah, probably like a 4 I guess  
   
Castiel [10:09 p.m.]: There’s a test you could take. It’s not definitive by any means. It’s more of a personal reassurance, if you need it. I did.  
   
Dean [10:09 p.m.]: What did you get?  
   
Castiel [10:09 p.m.]: 5.18.  
Castiel [10:10 p.m.]: Here’s the link if you’d like to take it. You don’t have to tell me your score. Make sure you read the definitions at the bottom.  
Castiel [10:10 p.m.]: http://www.youngsouthampton.org/children-and-young-people/advice/relationships/sexuality/klein-sexual-orientation-grid-quiz.aspx  
   
Dean didn’t hesitate to click the link. He was interested. It led him to a page with a questionnaire (thankfully much shorter than the one on the dating site.) After a few minutes, he’d read the definitions and chosen what he thought were very honest answers. He scored a 4.2.  
   
Dean [10:16 p.m.]: It says I’m predominantly homosexual but more than incidentally heterosexual.  
Dean [10:16 p.m.]: So I guess they’re saying I’m kind of gay but also kind of straight?  
   
Castiel [10:16 p.m.]: I believe that qualifies as bisexual, but really, you can self-identify any way you choose. If you prefer “kind of gay but also kind of straight,” that’s up to you.  
   
Dean laughed aloud again. He was getting used to the way this guy joked, in ways that seemed too serious and that people probably mistook for frankness.  
   
Dean [10:17 p.m.]: I’ll keep that in mind. I guess bi is fine.  
Dean [10:17 p.m.]: So you got a 5 something?  
   
Castiel [10:17 p.m.]: Yes, 5.18, but I took it about a year ago. It might have changed. If you’re asking what I consider myself to be, I’m gay.  
   
Dean [10:17 p.m.]: That’s cool. So have you ever had a boyfriend?  
   
Dean was asking mostly out of pure curiosity, but also out of hope that he might not be the only inexperienced one in this department.  
   
Castiel [10:17 p.m.]: No, I’ve never dated anyone.  
   
 _Oh._  
   
Dean [10:18 p.m.]: Really? I find that hard to believe  
   
Castiel [10:18 p.m.]: Why?  
   
Dean [10:18 p.m.]: A guy like you? You’re smart, you’ve got your life together, you’re funny, you’re  
   
Dean paused, letting the cursor blink. _What? Hot? Gorgeous?_  
   
            you’re attractive…  
   
Castiel [10:18 p.m.]: I’m flattered, but I think my awkwardness is more prominent than any of my more appealing qualities. Also, I definitely don’t have my life together.  
   
Dean [10:18 p.m.]: No?  
   
Castiel [10:20 p.m.]: No. I mean, I have a Bachelor’s degree, but I’ve pretty much done nothing with it for the past two years. I get odd freelance jobs here and there but mostly I just sit at home every day and read or draw. I live with my brother in our childhood home. I’ve never had a boyfriend. In fact, I really only figured out that I was gay this past year. I thought maybe I was just asexual or ambivalent.  
Castiel [10:20 p.m.]: Anyway.  
   
Dean read and reread this paragraph, and felt a little bit lighter somehow. He wasn’t exactly on an equal playing field with this guy, because he was obviously smarter and better educated, but he was still kind of aimless and unsure, just like Dean. It felt good knowing that they were sort of in the same boat.  
   
Dean [10:21 p.m.]: That’s good, actually  
Dean [10:22 p.m.]: Not  
Dean [10:22 p.m.]: I mean  
Dean [10:22 p.m.]: I mean it’s good because I almost didn’t talk to you because I thought you were so far out of my league.  
Dean [10:23 p.m.]: I mean, I still think you kinda are, but I was afraid because you’re older and you graduated college and you knew what you wanted out of life that you wouldn’t want to talk to me because I’m just a dumb part-time mechanic without a college education and with no goals in life.  
   
It took a long time for Cas to respond to that. Dean waited, watching the ellipsis blink.  
   
\--  
   
Castiel felt kind of bad for unloading his insecurities on the guy without much preamble, but Dean’s response was a total shock. He thought Castiel was _out of his league?_ The thought was so ridiculous that he actually laughed. And then he felt his cheeks go hot, and he held his head in his hands, shaking it slowly. “How is this even real?” He asked himself aloud. The guy liked his nerdy glasses. He called him “the good kind of weird.” He thought he was _out of his league?_ Really?  
   
Castiel [10:27 p.m.]: That’s just about the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard, Dean. First of all, I am nowhere near out of your league. If anything, it’s the other way around. Secondly, just because you didn’t go to college and you’re an auto mechanic, it doesn’t make you stupid. You seem like a very intelligent, thoughtful person and I really enjoy talking to you. I find it hard to talk to people who are shallow of thought. From what little I know about you, I can already tell that you’re a great guy and you’re responsible and caring and sweet and maybe you don’t have a clear path ahead of you, but who does at our age? PS, I’m only, what, two years older than you? A year and a half? I’m not that much older.  
   
Dean [10:28 p.m.]: When’s your birthday?  
   
Castiel [10:28 p.m.]: Next Thursday.  
   
Dean [10:28 p.m.]: Happy almost birthday then. 22?  
   
Castiel [10:28 p.m.]: Yes.  
   
Dean [10:28 p.m.]: I dunno, you’re pretty old  
   
Castiel laughed. _Jerk,_ he thought, but he didn’t mean it.  
   
Castiel [10:28 p.m.]: Whoa. Rude.  
   
Dean [10:29 p.m.]: Didn’t mean it.  
Dean [10:29 p.m.]: So you’ve never had a boyfriend, huh?  
Dean [10:29 p.m.]: Is that what you want?  
   
Castiel didn’t have to consider the question for long. No, he’d never been in a relationship, but there was no question that that was what he wanted. He could never see himself wasting time on someone with whom he couldn’t see a future. Dean deserved to know that.  
   
Castiel [10:30 p.m.]: Yes. I like stability and permanence. I would never date someone unless I could see myself being with them for a long time.  
Castiel [10:30 p.m.]: What about you?  
   
Dean [10:30 p.m.]: Yeah, same here. Got me into trouble before but I’m stubborn.  
Dean [10:31 p.m.]: I used to be a serial dater but that never worked out. I don’t know. Maybe I’m getting old too.  
   
Castiel [10:31 p.m.]: Yep, we’re a couple of old grandpas in our early twenties.  
   
Dean [10:31 p.m.]: Just think how we’ll be when we’re in our thirties.  
   
Castiel couldn’t help but imagine it, and in his mind’s eye, they were in their thirties _together._ It was a nice thought.  
   
From there, the conversation took on a lighter tone again. They talked about interests (Castiel was shocked to learn that Dean wasn’t a reader, but Dean was equally shocked to learn that Castiel didn’t really watch television, so they forgave each other), about favorite things (they discovered that they both shared a love for Mel Brooks movies, which gave Castiel an opening to complain about Cody’s awesome band name and his lack of understanding of why it was awesome,) likes and dislikes (they both loved burgers and live music, they both hated politics and self-entitlement.)  
   
Dean made Castiel laugh, and Castiel had the feeling that he was getting Dean to give up a part of himself that he didn’t readily show to others. It was fantastic being able to type everything, without uncomfortable silences in the way that conversations could have when spoken face-to-face. Talking had never been Castiel’s strong suit. Most people found him to be awkward and stiff, and he had always had a hard time formulating his words into speech. Writing his thoughts was much easier. He got the feeling that the medium was beneficial to Dean, as well.  
   
Dean [12:41 a.m.]: I don’t have many friends, anymore  
Dean [12:41 a.m.]: I guess it’s my own fault. I hold grudges pretty easily. Can’t forgive and forget.  
   
Castiel [12:41 a.m.]: I don’t have many friends, either. It’s hard to hold on to people after college. Everyone drifts apart.  
Castiel [12:42 a.m.]: I never had that many friends to begin with, but the ones I did have all turned out to be kind of awful.  
   
Dean [12:42 a.m.]: I hear you.  
   
They turned to serious topics. Anxieties. Doubts. Regrets. Castiel told Dean about his father’s departure. Dean told him about his mother’s death and his father’s steady downhill slide into alcoholism and anger.  
   
Dean [2:04 a.m.]: That’s why I don’t drink  
Dean [2:05 a.m.]: There have been days when Sam and Charlie were stranded at school because my dad was passed out drunk and forgot to pick them up. I was the only support they had, a lot of the time.  
Dean [2:05 a.m.]: Dad’s been getting better though. Started taking anti-depression meds, drinking non-alcoholic beer. I buy it for him.  
Dean [2:06 a.m.]: anyway sorry to be such a downer.  
   
Castiel [2:06 a.m.]: No, not at all. I want to know. I’m glad you feel comfortable enough to talk about these things with me.  
   
Dean [2:06 a.m.]: Weird  
Dean [2:06 a.m.]: I don’t know why I am, really. We haven’t even met but it feels like I’ve known you my whole life, you know?  
   
Castiel knew. He felt the same way.  
   
\--  
   
They’d been talking for hours, but Dean could hardly feel the time passing. It was as if they’d fallen into a vacuum, where hours and minutes were meaningless and conversation could last for seconds or days and he’d never know the difference. Talking to Castiel felt like talking to himself, in a weird way. The guy might have spoken like he was from another decade, but the sentiment was the same between them. They agreed about almost everything, and Dean knew it wasn’t a simple matter of Castiel agreeing because he wanted to appease Dean. They agreed because they just had _that much in common._ It was truly bizarre.  
   
Neither drank, or smoked, or did recreational drugs.  
   
Neither liked people all that much, on a fundamental level.  
   
Both had distant fathers, but both sickly, sadly, still craved their father’s approval.  
   
Both had fond memories of their mothers, deceased before their time.  
   
Neither liked drama or mind games.  
   
Both wanted something that was well past their years. Stability. A life worth living now.  
   
Dean could feel something very intense and very deep wrapping itself around him, seeping into the cracks of himself and growing roots. It was terrifying and exhilarating. Before he knew it, they had been talking for more than seven hours. He yawned and looked at the time.  
   
Dean [5:11 a.m.]: Holy shit it’s 5 am  
Dean [5:11 a.m.]: I’ve gotta be at work in like four hours. I should sleep. We should sleep.  
Dean [5:11 a.m.]: I don’t want to stop talking  
   
Castiel [5:11 a.m.]: Oh, crap. No, you should definitely sleep. You’re going to be a wreck.  
   
Dean laughed, for the millionth time. Castiel didn’t swear, and it was kind of adorable in a dorky way.  
   
Dean [5:12 a.m.]: I’ll be fine.  
Dean [5:12 a.m.]: Can I have your number? I want to continue this conversation but I don’t have a computer and I’m borrowing my little sister’s laptop  
   
Castiel gave his number willingly. A Topeka area code. Dean saved it into his phone under “Cas.”  
   
Dean [5:13 a.m.]: Thanks.  
Dean [5:13 a.m.]: It was really good talking to you, Cas  
   
Castiel [5:13 a.m.]: It was. Really great.  
Castiel [5:13 a.m.]: I hope you sleep well.  
   
Dean [5:13 a.m.]: Thanks, Cas. Goodnight.  
   
Castiel [5:13 a.m.]: Good night, Dean.  
   
Dean x-ed out of the chat, closed the laptop and stood, stretching. He’d been sitting in the same position all night, and his back ached. There was a dull, pulsing throb at the base of his neck from declining his head for hours, and his eyes felt fuzzy. But despite all of the aches and pains, despite the fact that the kitchen clock ticked furiously away at him as he passed by to set Charlie’s laptop on her backpack in the den, and despite the knowledge that he would have to work tomorrow with a sore back while running on little more than three hours of sleep, he felt happy. Really, truly happy in a way that he couldn’t remember having felt in a long time.  
   
He fell asleep with a smile on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That Kinsey-Klein sexual orientatiin grid that I referenced is a real thing! It was very helpful to me when I was first struggling with my sexuality. I score about the same as Cas. And as he said, it's by no means definitive, and it's definitely more for your own personal reference than anything, but it's a good tool if you need it. Make sure you read the definitions!
> 
> As always, come say hi to me on [tumblr](http://glassclosetcastiel.tumblr.com)!


	11. Pre-teen Love Notes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, sorry it took me so long to update! I'm moving right now and everything is hectic. I can't promise a speedy update after this but I promise it will happen at some point! Probably in January. Hopefully this will be enough to tide you over until then. I wish you all safe and happy holidays!

When Black Sabbath's "Looking for Today" invaded his impressively solid sleep, Dean squeezed his eyes tighter shut and silently cursed Ozzy Osbourne and his bat-eating self. He fumbled for the phone at his side, trying in vain to blindly hit the snooze button. After a moment, he huffed in frustration and cracked an eye, shutting the alarm off. He allowed himself one last moment of quiet rest, trying to place himself back into the dream from which he'd been so violently ripped. He had been with Castiel- no, _Cas,_ sitting on the hood of the Impala in the middle of the woods, watching fireworks. He smiled a bit at the memory of the dream before realizing with a sudden jolt that their conversation had been real. Well, mostly real. It had taken place, in any case, while not in person. The happy thought was enough to propel him up and out of bed.

He had a new text message, and his heart gave an unusual swoop in his chest as he opened it. It was from Charlie, however, and he smiled a little to himself as he read, _HOW DID IT GO I'M DYING OVER HERE_

 _Calm down, drama queen. It's not even 9am,_ he typed back. _I'll tell you when you get home._ He knew the vague reply would drive her even more crazy, and he relished in it. _GUH!_ came her reply a moment later. Dean laughed and made his way to the kitchen to brew coffee. Despite an almost visceral need to compose a message to Cas, waxing poetic about their amazing conversation and how much he had enjoyed it, Dean decided that there was no need to subject the guy to as little sleep as he'd gotten. He kept the phone tucked away in his jeans, though, just in case. He made it out the door and into his father's garage just before 9:00.

The phone was an unfamiliar weight in his pocket as he worked, unwilling to miss the buzz of a text message (or, although unlikely, a phone call.) They broke for lunch around 11:30, and Dean couldn't wait any longer. He muttered something about sandwiches and retreated to the Impala, looking around to make sure no one was in sight before typing out a text. _Morning, Cas._ It wasn't much, but it was better than the embarrassingly long message he'd concocted in his head. Dean thrummed his fingers against the steering wheel as he waited for a reply. It came in less than a minute. _Good morning, Dean._ He smiled a little to himself before typing back, _Hope I didn't wake you. Couldn't wait to say hey. Loved talking to you last night._ Hoping it didn't sound too cheesy, he hit "send" and put the phone down, pulling the car out of the lot and onto the road.

Dean spent about ten extra minutes parked outside the gas station, having a brief but flirtatious conversation with Cas. Even if he hadn't had coffee, he knew that the conversation would have been enough to wake him up. Castiel even sent him a picture of some Bat Dean sketches he'd been working on. _That is badass dude,_ he commented, grinning from ear to ear. Eventually, he knew that his father would start to wonder where he was, so he reluctantly told Cas, _Gotta get back to work, talk to you later,_ and took his sandwiches and hit the road.

A little while later, however, he felt the buzz in his pocket and excused himself to go to the restroom to check it. The text was from Charlie. _SAM AND I JUST HAD THE MOST BRILLIANT IDEA EVER,_ it read, and Dean shook his head at her abuse of capitalization.

He excused her dramatics after her next text came, because the idea actually _was_ awesome. He couldn't think of a single reason not to mention it to Cas, so he began to type out a message to him. After about five anguished minutes of trying to explain the complicated situation via one-fingered texting, Dean huffed in frustration and decided to swallow his pride and call him. Besides, he knew it would be weird for him to be hanging out in the bathroom for such a long time. He stepped out into the garage and got his father's attention.

"Hey, dad, just gotta make a quick phone call, be right back." John just grunted what seemed like an affirmative, so Dean stepped outside and shut himself into the safety of the Impala. His fingers ghosted over the imaginary keyboard on the phone screen for a moment as he debated with himself. _What's the big deal? We talked all night._ He eventually settled on posing a question through text. _You got a minute? Can I call?_

\--

It had quite possibly been the best night of Castiel's life. Okay, maybe that was a slight exaggeration, but it certainly felt like it could be true. He definitely couldn't remember the last time he'd smiled so much. It had been close to 6:00 in the morning when he was finally able to get to sleep, which should have made it difficult to wake up at a relatively normal time, but Castiel found himself awake and alert and with a smile on his face before his brother was even out of bed.

Gabriel wandered into the kitchen just as Castiel was pouring himself a steaming hot cup of tea. It was very indicative of Castiel's usual stony countenance that it only took a single glance for his brother to narrow his eyes in mirthful suspicion and ask, "Cassie… what's going on?"

Castiel hesitated, filling a teaspoon with honey and gently stirring it into his tea before responding. "What do you mean?" He made sure to arrange his face into a look of casual indifference. Gabriel wasn't buying it. 

"Don't play dumb with me," Gabriel leaned into Castiel's space, eyes further narrowed and arms crossed. "I know you, buddy. You have that look on your face like that time you won best in show at the county arts expo. Something happened. Something _good_ happened." He reached out and shoved Castiel's shoulder, playfully. "Tell me."

"Shouldn't you be at work?" Castiel evaded, giving his tea a little more attention than was strictly necessary.

"Workin' from home today, little bro. Nice dodge, though. Seriously. What's up with you?" Gabriel snagged the spoon and honey from the Castiel's hands and measured out a spoonful before sticking it in his mouth like a lollipop.

Castiel sighed, deciding that he wasn't ready to talk about this with his brother. Not yet. "Nothing, Gabe." He turned and marched back up the stairs without another word. Not for the first time, he felt Gabriel's glare on his back the whole way. He only felt a little bit guilty for keeping his brother in the dark. After all, there was nothing to tell, necessarily. He'd had a single conversation. That was it. It was hardly worth the inevitable and much larger confession that would have to come with mentioning it. _No,_ he decided. He wouldn't come out to Gabriel yet. But he would, if this thing with Dean (whatever it was) developed into anything more meaningful. If their first conversation was anything to go by, his ridiculous happiness was going to be hard to conceal if anything else happened.

He busied himself with some sketches to prevent himself from texting Dean. He knew the guy was at work and didn't want to distract him. Still, it took everything he had not to type out all kinds of ridiculous things that he would no doubt feel embarrassed by later. Finally, around lunch time, he heard the familiar popping sound that indicated that he'd received a text, and sure enough, it was from Dean. _Morning, Cas,_ it read, and Castiel felt a broad smile creep across his face, unbidden.

 _Good morning, Dean,_ he replied, steeling himself from typing an extra paragraph or two about how much he'd loved their conversation. Fortunately, Dean beat him to it with his reply. _Hope I didn't wake you. Couldn't wait to say hey. Loved talking to you last night._

 _Jesus,_ Castiel thought, and wondered again if it was all real, or just an elaborately-constructed dream from which he never wanted to wake up. _You didn't wake me,_ Castiel typed back. _I've been up for hours. I wanted to say hello but I didn't want to disturb you. I loved our conversation, too._

 _You wouldn't have bothered me,_ Dean replied. _I had my phone in my pocket all day just in case you said hey._ Castiel felt heat across his cheeks and immediately felt like a pre-teen passing flirtatious notes in class. Since he'd never actually been on the receiving end of said flirtatious notes, he decided he could indulge himself now to make up for lost time. _Oh?_ He typed back. _Well, hello then. How did you sleep?_

 _Alright. I had an awesome dream where I talked all night to this hot guy._ Castiel blushed for real this time, but decided to play along. _He sounds pretty great._

 _I think so,_ Dean replied. Castiel's eyes fell on his discarded notebook, and he enthusiastically typed out a text detailing the progress he'd made on Bat Dean. A moment later, he received an equally enthused _Hell yes!_ so he snapped a picture of the sketchbook page with his phone and sent it to Dean. _That is badass dude,_ Dean remarked, and then, _Gotta get back to work, talk to you later._

 _Okay, have a good day,_ Castiel typed back, and couldn't help but think that it was a very domestic thing to say. It felt comfortable and easy, and he could imagine waking up to a goodbye kiss from Dean, offering a peck in return, and wishing him a good day as he went off to work. It was a good image. He beamed as he retuned to his sketches.

\--

About fifteen minutes later, while in the kitchen making a simple breakfast of nutella on toast, Castiel's phone pinged in his pocket, and he read, _You got a minute? Can I call?_ He blanched, toast halfway to his mouth. Dean wanted to call? Already? Castiel had a completely ridiculous and childish fear of speaking on the telephone, a product of his social awkwardness and ineptitude for reading verbal subtleties. Phone calls were always uncomfortable. He panicked.

Stuffing the toast in his mouth to free both hands, he typed back, _yes, give me a moment,_ and rushed outside. He swallowed the bit of toast in his mouth and immediately wished he'd grabbed some water. The dryness of his throat was only amplified by the cloying, sticky nutella and his increasing panic. After a deep breath and a few less than helpful swallows, the phone rang in his hand. _Here goes nothing,_ he thought, and answered.

"Hello, Dean."

"Oh, um. Cas?" the voice on the line said, and Castiel laughed through his nervousness.

"Yes," he replied.

"Oh, hey," Dean huffed a laugh in return. "Dude, your voice does _not_ match your face."

"I've been told," Castiel replied, smiling at Dean's playful tone and his slight drawl. "Your voice, however, matches you perfectly."

Dean laughed again, a little awkwardly, and Castiel relaxed. _He's nervous too,_ he realized. "Is everything alright?" he asked, because Dean's text had seemed uncharacteristically urgent.

"Oh, yeah, everything's cool. I just wanted to run something by you and it was too much to text."

"Ah. What's that?"

Dean paused, and Castiel listened to an uncertain huff before he replied, "you ever thought about teaching?"

Well. _That_ was unexpected.

"Hmm," Castiel mused, leaning on the porch railing. "No, I hadn't really ever given it much thought. Why do you ask?"

"Well, my little brother and sister told me that their art teacher got arrested." Castiel snorted into the phone. "Yeah," Dean laughed, "long story. So anyway, Charlie texts me today and says they're still looking for an art teacher and she asked the arts director or whatever what they were looking for in a new hire, and he said just someone with an artistic background and a Bachelor's degree. And she immediately thought of you." His words came out in a rush, and Castiel took a moment to process everything.

"Wow," he replied, running a hand through his hair. _Wow._

"Yeah," Dean said. "It's a really great school. It's where I went. They have an art center so all of the classes are filled with kids who really want to be artists. Charlie's into it, I think maybe Sam's just taking art class because she's there but he's still a great kid. The principal is alright and the arts director is awesome. I took his guitar class one year. Anyway. Just something to think about."

"Indeed. Well," Castiel said, "It was very nice of you to think of me, Dean," and he meant it. He was already formulating lesson plans in his head. Light and shading. Perspective drawing. Color theory. Portraiture. His pulse raced in excitement. No, he'd never thought of being a teacher, but the idea seemed intriguing. He had loved his art classes in high school, because he'd had brilliant, encouraging teachers. As if he could read Castiel's thoughts, Dean said, "their teacher before wasn't that great, and they've basically been passed around to all of these subs who don't give a fuck about art. The whole class is going nuts wanting a teacher who actually knows what they're doing."

 _They deserve a good instructor,_ Castiel decided. Arts education was extremely important to him, and he could tell Dean felt the same way, even if just for his siblings. "Can you email me the information? The name of the school, maybe the contact information for the arts director or the principal?" He asked, and Dean replied with a hearty, "Yeah, totally."

"Thank you. Really, thank your siblings for thinking of me." He rescrubbed a hand over his face and smiled through his fingers.

"You got it, man. What's your email address?"

After a few more minutes, Dean vowed to have Charlie retrieve all of the information she could and have it emailed to Castiel. He sounded truly regretful when he said he had to get back to work. "It was really good hearing your voice, man. Even if it does sound like you gargle on rocks every night." Castiel barked out a laugh at that. "You too, Dean."

"I'll talk to you later," Dean promised.

"Have a good day."

"You too. Bye, Cas." And with that, Castiel let out a long breath and retreated into the house, unable to shake the hesitant smile from his face.

Gabriel met him at the top of the stairs, eyebrows cocked and arms crossed.

It was time to have a conversation.


	12. Brotherly Bonding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! New chapter finally. Sorry it took so long. I needed inspiration and it finally struck. Here is the long-awaited conversation with Gabriel. Enjoy!

_You’re a genius, Charles. He’s into it. Can you email me some info on the job so I can forward to him?_

_Yay! Sure thing, bro. Check your email._ Dean forwarded the email from Charlie to Cas and headed back inside to finish up with work. He couldn’t help but grin from ear to ear. They’d finally spoken on the phone, and while Castiel’s voice was ridiculously low and gravelly and totally didn’t match his face, his tone and cadence matched perfectly with the way he typed. Dean had to admit that it was sort of fitting. He couldn’t wait to get home so that they could talk again. _Is it too soon to call him again?_ he wondered, briefly, but was quickly distracted by his father and the addition if a new vehicular disaster to work on.

The hours dragged on and on, and Dean couldn’t help but notice that it was going by slower when he was constantly reminded of the time whenever he stole a glance at his phone. He couldn’t help it. To his dismay, save for a single reply email ( _Thank you, Dean,_ ) he’d had no more interaction with Cas, and he was distracted and fidgety. If his father noticed, however, he gave no indication. Dean was grateful for that, at least.

Finally, the end of the workday rolled around and Dean waved to his father, telling him he’d see him at home in a little while. John grunted his assent. By the time he made it back to the house, Sam and Charlie were already there, homework and textbooks spread on the counter. He scoffed a little at the nerds, but he also felt a bit of pride wash over him. They were really good kids. He dropped his keys on the table by the front door and grabbed Charlie’s Mountain Dew. She just rolled her eyes.

“Sooo,” she said, looking up at Dean from beneath her fiery red bangs. “He’s gonna do it?”

“I think so,” Dean replied, taking a swig of the acid-yellow soda. “He got really quiet when I asked him, but then he thought about it for a minute and he actually sounded kinda excited.”

Both Sam and Charlie grinned. “What’s he sound like?” Charlie wanted to know, and Dean couldn’t help but laugh.

“He sounds like a forty-year-old dude who smokes two packs a day.”

Sam laughed. “Really? Are we sure he isn’t?”

Charlie answered for him. “Oh, yeah. We’re sure.” Sam quirked an eyebrow at that. “What? I had to make sure he was who he said he was.” She pulled out her phone and fiddled with it for a minute before handing it to Sam, who snorted.

“Charlie, what the hell is that?” Dean asked, rounding the counter to snatch the phone from his brother’s hands. It was the photo of Cas that he’d sent the night before. _Dean, look, I’m me._ “Why exactly do you have this picture saved on your phone?” he asked his sister, whose eyes were wide and entirely too innocent.

“You were using my laptop, Dean. Any downloaded photos automatically get backed up to the cloud.” Dean groaned at that, because _that fucking cloud again._ No matter how many times Charlie and Sam tried to explain it to him, he didn’t understand the cloud. Nor did he trust it. They’d sat through a lot of Dean’s _”well where the hell is this_ cloud _?”_ and _”how does your stuff even get up there?”_ before they eventually gave up even trying to explain.

Dean just waved her off. “Whatever. Don’t post it on faceplace or whatever.”

“Dean, you know it’s called ‘facebook’,” Sam sighed, complete with obligatory long-suffering little brother eye roll. 

Charlie grabbed her phone from Dean and looked at the picture again. “If he gets the job, the girls are gonna be _all_ over him. You’d better claim him quick.” Dean huffed a laugh, finishing off the Mountain Dew.

“Something tells me I don’t need to worry about competing with a bunch of 16-year-old girls, Charles.” 

She shook her head and smirked. “So modest.”

Dean made an exaggerated show of flexing his biceps and kissing them each in turn. Sam made a gagging noise.

\--

Castiel let out a long breath and walked back up the stairs, feeling very conscious of his older brother’s eyes on his back as he led Gabriel into the living room to sit.

“Cassie, you’ve been acting weird. Which, admittedly, should be normal, for you.” Gabriel perched on the armrest at the opposite end of the love seat from Castiel, and despite his playful words, he looked concerned. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, and you seem okay, but I think I deserve an explanation.”

Castiel folded his hands in his lap and sighed, realizing that his brother was right. _What was he so afraid of, anyway?_ If anyone was accepting of alternative lifestyles, it was Gabriel. “I think I met someone,” he said, not looking up from his lap. He hoped the nervousness in his voice wasn’t too apparent.

Gabriel unfolded himself and came to sit next to Castiel. “That’s awesome, little bro. What’s his name?”

Castiel snapped his eyes up to meet his brother’s. _Wait. What?_

Gabriel smirked, not unkindly. “What, you think I didn’t know? I’m honestly a little surprised you’ve held it in this long.”

Castiel fidgeted with the hem of his t-shirt, and Gabriel turned so he was fully facing his brother. “Cassie, you know you can tell me anything, right?” He put a reassuring hand on Castiel’s shoulder and gave a squeeze.

Castiel felt a knot loosen in his stomach. “His name is Dean.” 

Gabriel beamed. “Is he cute?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows, and Castiel shoved him with his shoulder. “I’m just kidding. Kinda. I’m sure he’s adorable.” 

The younger brother rolled his eyes, but he smiled to himself, remembering the photo Dean had sent last night. _Not exactly adorable. Ridiculously attractive, perhaps._

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner, bro?” Gabriel asked, and he looked hurt. Castiel sighed.

“I don’t know, Gabe. I didn’t really even know myself until college. Probably right about when Meg asked me out.” They both laughed. “But, yes. I’m gay. I’ve known for a few years. I don’t know why I was afraid to tell you.”

He looked up at Gabriel, and there was a twinkle in the man’s golden eyes. “I don’t know why, either.” He laughed. “You know I’ve been with guys, right?”

Castiel huffed out a nervous laugh in return. “I thought you were joking this whole time.”

Gabriel raised his eyebrows. “For real? No, baby bro. I’ve been trying to be as un-subtle as possible about my homo-tastic exploits, hoping you’d finally feel comfortable enough to come out to me.”

Castiel shook his head, suddenly feeling really stupid for ever worrying. “Sorry.”

Gabriel threw an arm over his shoulders and pulled him in to a sideways hug. “No worries, Cassie. Just… no more secrets, okay?” Castiel couldn’t help but nod his agreement.

“So!” Gabriel released his brother and clapped his hands together. “Tell me about _Dean._ ” 

Castiel didn’t like the mischievous glint in his eyes, and he was suddenly nervous again about admitting he’d been seeking out matches online. “Um,” he stalled. “We met online.” He saw Gabriel’s eyebrows shoot up, so he pre-emptively calmed his fears. “Don’t worry, I was very careful. We’ve only chatted about vague stuff, I haven’t given him any personal information, and I wasn’t planning on meeting him alone. Promise.”

“Mhmm,” Gabriel chided, but he seemed placated by his brother’s caution. “Was that him on the phone just now?”

Castiel felt heat on his cheeks. “Yes. He called to tell me about a job opportunity. Apparently they’re looking for an art teacher at his younger siblings’ high school.”

“Wow. That’s pretty cool. Wait, where do they live?”

“Lawrence. Not too far.”

“Oh, not too far at all. So, you gonna apply?” Gabriel asked, and Castiel took a deep breath.

“I think I am.”

Gabriel punched him playfully on the arm. “That’s great, little bro. Good for you.”

“You think?” he asked, searching out any doubt on his brother’s face. He found none.

“Of course, dude,” Gabriel smiled. “You’re the best artist I know. Those kids would be _lucky_ to have you as a teacher.”

Castiel smiled, deciding that he was very lucky to have a brother like Gabriel.

\--

They spoke for another half hour or so, and then they hugged again, and murmured apologies to one another about their stunted brotherly communication. Castiel finally excused himself to his bedroom, where he opened his laptop and pulled up the email from Dean.

**From:** Dean Winchester [dwin67@yahoo.com]   
**Sent:** 1:22 PM  
 **To:** castiel_illustrates@gmail.com  
 **Subject:** Fwd: Art Teacher info

_Cas- here’s all the info from Charlie. Good luck. Dean_

Castiel copied and pasted the email address of the arts center director into a new email and typed what he hoped was a professional request.

_Mr. Powell,_

_I’m interested in applying for the art teacher position at your high school. Please let me know where I can find an application or to whom I should send a resume._

_Thank you for your time,_

_Castiel Novak_

He read and re-read the email before hitting send, and breathed out through his nerves. He checked his phone and tried not to be disappointed when he had no texts from Dean. He decided to text Meg until Dean got off work.

**_I came out to Gabe._ **

_Girrrlllll. How’d he take it?_

**_Totally fine. He already knew. PS- he wasn’t joking._ **

_About what?_

**_He really has been with guys._ **

_HA I knew it. You owe me $5_

**_Also I spoke to Dean on the phone._ **

Not two seconds later, Meg was calling him. “Tell me everything,” she said, by way of a greeting. Castiel sighed and stretched out on his bed. _This is gonna take awhile._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, come find me on [tumblr](http://glassclosetcastiel.tumblr.com) and say hi!


	13. Some Things Never Change

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I had a flash of inspiration and I wrote a whole chapter in record time! Unfortunately, it's at least two chapters away from this one. Sooo I had to figure out what to write in-between. It took me awhile, but I got it. This one is a little angsty in the first half, so... sorry? Like minor, minor angst. And the second half is moderately provocative. For me. Which is to say that it's probably tame to just about anyone else. But be fore-warned. I mention condoms. And lap dances.
> 
> Enjoy!

They didn't talk on the phone again that night, to Dean's dismay. Cas texted him to let him know that he was caught in a very enthusiastic conversation with his friend, Meg, to which Dean replied _Wait, you can text and talk on the phone at the same time?_ Cas had the decency to not make fun of him too much.

He busied himself with making dinner. "You guys want burgers?" He asked Sam and Charlie, and upon receiving enthusiastic nods, began shaping patties and readying potatoes for hand-cut french fries. By the time he had the grill fired up, his father was home. "Grillin' burgers, dad," he called into the living room, and his father gave him an appreciative nod as he popped the top off of a beer.

Sam and Charlie helped fry the potatoes and set out the plates and silverware. Their lives had changed drastically when Mary Winchester died, but the one thing that had remained the same was that they always ate together at the table as a family. It was there that Dean felt the most normal, like their family was still whole. _Almost._ He kept a framed picture of his mom by his bed, so the feeling of emptiness never really went away.

John asked the kids how their day at school had gone, and then he thanked Dean for his help at the shop. "You talkin' to a girl on that phone of yours all day?" he asked, and Dean stilled with the burger halfway to his mouth. He hadn't thought his father had noticed. Sam and Charlie were suddenly very busy with their own food.

"Uh, no," Dean replied, stalling by biting into his burger. He swallowed thickly. "Just um." He quickly sorted through his options. _Not Charlie or Sam,_ he decided. Dad would be mad if he found out they were texting at school. _Benny?_ That worked. "Benny. He was askin' about a um. Car problem. His girlfriend's car broke down. Needed some advice." It was a pretty bold lie, considering Benny and Andrea had broken up months ago. Dean was banking on his father forgetting that information. Fortunately, he took it in stride.

"What was the problem?" John asked, and Dean cast around for some simple issue that might cause a breakdown.

"Alternator," he replied, and left it at that. His father huffed. They dealt with alternators pretty frequently. He let the subject drop and felt relief that he'd successfully navigated around the topic, until he felt a buzz in his pocket. He didn't check it. _Not the time._

\--

As soon as dinner was over, Sam and Charlie cornered Dean in the hallway next to his bedroom. "What are you gonna tell him?" Sam hissed under his breath.

Dean sighed. "Nothing, Sammy."

"Nothing?"

"Me and Cas haven't even met yet," Dean protested, but his siblings still looked worried.

"You want to meet him, though, right?" Charlie asked. Dean didn't need to think about it. _Yeah,_ he wanted to meet Cas. More than just about anything right now.

Dean shrugged. "Eventually."

"Dean," Charlie gave him a look.

"Okay yes, I want to meet him. Jesus."

"Then what are you gonna tell dad? You're gonna meet him and fall in love and make little adorable metaphorical babies and just... not say anything to dad?" Charlie asked, hands on her hips.

Dean looked out beyond the kitchen and watched the back of his father's head as he sat in front of the TV. He ran a hand over his face. "I'll just... I'll make an excuse." Sam made an annoyed huffing noise, and Dean jabbed a finger at him. "Seriously Sammy, don't start with me right now. I'll make excuses _for now._ If- _if_ this thing with Cas turns into something... maybe I'll tell him. Maybe."

Sam had that kicked puppy face again, so Dean pulled his phone out to have an excuse to look away. He'd never checked that text from Cas. _Oh my god, kill me, she decided to come over and now she and Gabe are talking about really gross things, and OH I forgot to tell you, I came out to my brother. Did I tell you I wasn't out to him yet? Anyway I'll tell you all about it later when Meg leaves. Sorry for this ridiculously long text._ Dean smiled, but then felt a pang of regret. Cas was great. Probably the best new thing that had happened to him in years. And yet, he couldn't display his happiness around his father. It was a sickening feeling.

"I want to tell dad," he admitted to his siblings. "I do. I'm just... you know. I'm worried he'll kick me out or something. You know how he is."

Sam sighed and nodded. "Yeah. But Dean, he wouldn't kick you out for this. We'll be behind you the whole way." Charlie nodded in agreement. "We'll stand behind you. Back you up. Show him that we're cool with it and he's an asshole if he's not."

"Plus," Charlie added, "if he gave you any crap for it, you know Uncle Bobby and Aunt Ellen would take you in in a heartbeat. And... we'd come with you." Bobby and Ellen were considerably more understanding than John, but they lived several states away. It wouldn't be ideal. He wouldn't allow Sammy and Charlie to uproot themselves if that were the case. Charlie could sense his apprehension, so she gripped his arm and said, "But that's not gonna happen. Okay? Promise. If you come out to dad and he doesn't take it well, we'll be there and we'll make him see reason. Promise. Pinkie swear." She held out a pinkie. Dean rolled his eyes but linked fingers with her anyway.

Dean barricaded himself in his room after the uncomfortable conversation and sent off a few texts to Cas, even though he'd said he would wait to talk to Dean about things until later. Dean couldn't wait. His thoughts were stormy. 

_What kind of gross things?_

_Also that's awesome. How'd he take it?_

A reply came almost immediately. _Sexual stuff. They're comparing notes. It went well, because apparently Gabe has been with men before. Who knew?_

Dean laughed. _Lol. You buncha queers._

_It's a family trait, apparently,_ Castiel replied. 

They fell into an easy, slow conversation for a few hours while Dean flicked numbly through TV stations, not really focusing on anything. Eventually he yawned and looked at the time. It wasn't too late, but he always got unreasonably cranky when he was stressed and it didn't help if he was tired, too. He didn't want to take it out on Cas. _I'm gonna sleep, Cas,_ he texted, and pulled his clothes off so he could change into sleep pants.

_:( Sorry,_ Castiel replied. _Promise I'll talk more tomorrow. I'll text you when I wake up, if you want._

_It's okay,_ Dean replied. _Long day. Yeah, text me in the morning. Night, Cas._

_Good night Dean._

He turned off the light and let his thoughts swirl for a long time. Eventually, he drifted off to sleep.

\--

"We talked all night."

"All night? Like _all_ night?" Meg asked. Castiel could hear the excitement in her voice over the phone.

"Yes. I didn't go to bed until 6 a.m."

"Ooh, kinky."

"We did _not_ do any of that," Castiel replied indignantly, feeling his face flush. He was grateful she couldn't see it.

"Okay, so no sexting. What, then?"

"We just... talked. It was so natural. You know how I am. I hate talking to people. This was... different. Nice. We have so much in common."

"What, is Titanic his favorite movie, too?" She asked, and laughed.

"Shut up, you said you'd never mention that again. No, he just... he doesn't drink, for one, which is incredible, and he doesn't like parties or partying and he hates small talk and obnoxiously dramatic people and he loves Mel Brooks movies and he doesn't read much but he did mention he loved Vonnegut. Which is great. And he's really kind of a dork, deep down, although I feel he'd never admit it. He loves Harry Potter and Star Trek and he told me he had a crush on Indiana Jones."

"Wooow," Meg said. "I don't think I've ever heard you speak that many words at once. You've got it bad."

Castiel hesitated, considering. He settled on neutrality. "He's just really nice and funny and intelligent. The hours went by like nothing. And then we texted all day today. I've actually been texting him during this conversation."

"Whoa, asshole, tell him this is Meg time."

Castiel laughed and sent off an apologetic text to Dean. "There. Sent."

"So you told Gabe, and Gabe is also a giant homo, and you owe me money, correct?" Meg teased, and he rolled his eyes.

"Gabe is only a minor homo. He's pansexual, maybe. Or. I don't know. But yes, the five dollars are yours."

"Sweet. I'll be over in like fifteen minutes to collect."

Castiel thought she was joking, but she wasn't. Before he knew it, Meg was in his living room, trading stories with Gabriel. This was somehow worse than the flirting had been.

"It was our second-cousin's wedding in Omaha, you remember that, Cassie?" Gabe asked, and Castiel rolled his eyes in response. He remembered. "I went to the bachelorette party. Told dad and Cassie here I was going to the bachelor party. We ended up at Chippendale's and I paid for a lap dance for Ana but then mostly ended up giving the dude his own personal lap dance, and thennnn one thing led to another and we ended up in his car. I came back to the hotel that night with so many hickeys I thought dad would have a heart attack."

Castiel couldn't help but snort. "And here I was thinking you'd been deflowering bridesmaids." Gabriel winked at him.

Meg laughed appreciatively at his story. "Did I ever tell you about that time in the bathroom at Books-a-Million?" She launched into a truly horrendous tale that Castiel didn't want to hear a second time. He sent a long text to Dean so he wouldn't have to pay attention. _Oh my god, kill me, she decided to come over and now she and Gabe are talking about really gross things, and OH I forgot to tell you, I came out to my brother. Did I tell you I wasn't out to him yet? Anyway I'll tell you all about it later when Meg leaves. Sorry for this ridiculously long text._

_What kind of gross things?_ Dean replied, and then, _Also that's awesome. How'd he take it?_

_Sexual stuff. They're comparing notes. It went well, because apparently Gabe has been with men before. Who knew?_ Castiel replied, smiling to himself. Gabriel was recounting a tale of improvising a condom by way of tying off a sandwich bag with a rubber band, and Castiel tried to shut his ears off while he read Dean's response.

_Lol. You buncha queers._

_It's a family trait, apparently,_ Castiel replied, laughing. He wondered, briefly, if it really was a family trait. They had lots of extended family, but they weren't particularly close with anyone. Ana would probably know.

Castiel alternated making disgusted faces at Gabriel and Meg's conversation and texting Dean for the next few hours. Thankfully, they never thought to include him in their uncomfortable dialogue, save for a few instances when one would say something encouraging, like, "Oh, Cassie, just wait until you meet Dean. Then you'll get it." He doubted he'd ever experience the ludicrous things his brother and best friend had. He was okay with that.

Eventually, Dean said he had to go to sleep, and Castiel regretfully wished him good night and promised to text first thing in the morning. With nothing else to distract him, he turned his attention back to Gabe and Meg, and found himself shaking his head and rolling his eyes more than he could ever remember having done before. They were crazy, and reckless, and brash, but he loved them. He was suddenly apprehensive, realizing that Dean would have to meet them some day. _He hoped._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, please come say hey to me on [tumblr](http://glassclosetcastiel.tumblr.com)! I mean it!


	14. A Sticky Situation (Or Two)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am determined to finish this by Valentine's Day! I give you all permission to badger me ruthlessly until I get this done. Hopefully it won't come to that. 
> 
> This chapter is where the angst comes in, so just be prepared for that. Also, warning for homophobic slurs, ew.
> 
> It's a bit of a long one, too. But we are finally getting somewhere! 
> 
> Enjoy!

They spoke on the phone again the next day. Twice. Castiel went into unfortunately gory detail about all of the stories his brother and best friend had swapped the night before, and Dean laughed in sympathy of Castiel’s mortification. “I can’t wait to meet them,” he said, and even though he said it with an edge of sarcasm, Castiel couldn’t help but feel the smile curling his lips.

Dean shared his insecurity and fear of his father’s reaction to him eventually coming out, and Castiel listened and provided consoling words when he could. “I’m not sure how my father would react, honestly,” he confessed. “I haven’t spoken to him at all in almost a year.”

“What’s he even doing in Mexico, anyway?” Dean asked, and Castiel mentally berated himself from pulling the focus away from Dean’s issue.

Castiel gazed at the ceiling, imaging his father hunched over his computer keyboard as he had so often been at home, only in this instance, he was surrounded by adobe walls, palm trees and sunshine in the windows. “Supposedly, finding himself. Writing the next great American novel. Something like that.” He tried not to sound too bitter.

“Hmm,” Dean hummed, and Castiel allowed himself only another moment of wistful contemplation before rounding back on the problem at hand.

“Anyway, it’s not like his opinion would matter. He’s gone. But you…” he trailed off, sighing. “You’re kind of at the mercy of your father.”

“Yeah,” Dean agreed. “I don’t really care what he thinks, to be honest with you. I just don’t want there to be any more tension in this house. Sammy and Charlie walk on eggshells around him as it is. If he reacts the way I think he will, things’ll get bad again. Maybe as bad as they were after… mom.”

Castiel closed his eyes and swallowed. From what Dean had told him, things had gotten pretty bad after Mary Winchester died. “Dean,” he began, but he didn’t know what else to say.

“Yeah,” Dean said, because there probably wasn’t anything else to say anyway.

“We don’t have to…” Castiel thought. _What? Talk anymore? Meet?_ The thought made his stomach turn unpleasantly. It would be terrible, to say the least, if he and Dean couldn’t speak anymore, but he knew he would cut off all contact in a heartbeat if it meant keeping Dean and his siblings safe at home.

“No, Cas,” Dean cut his thoughts short. “Don’t even think like that. I’ll get through it. He’s gonna have to find out eventually. Might as well take matters into my own hands instead of trying to hide everything. I don’t want…” he sighed, and Castiel imagined him in his bedroom, head back, making patterns out of the expanse of his ceiling, just like he was doing. It was a comforting thought. Almost like they were in the same place. “I like you a lot, Cas,” Dean continued. “I know it’s only been a couple days, but I don’t want to put a stop to whatever this is.”

“Good,” Castiel replied, because he felt warmth in his chest at Dean’s words. “Whatever you need, I’m here, Dean. I mean that.”

“I know you do. Thanks.”

\--

Dean wasn’t needed at the shop, and Charlie and Sam were at school, so Dean had shot off a “good morning” text to Cas as soon as he’d woken up, and had only had the restraint to wait five minutes before he called. They spoke for just a little while, because Cas was just getting up, and needed breakfast and tea, and Dean had made fun of him for being an elderly woman. “You gonna feed your fifteen cats, too, Cas?” he’d laughed, and was pleased by the indignant huff on the other end of the line.

“Shut up,” Cas had replied, without much malice, and there was a comfortable silence between them, during which Dean imagined that Cas was smiling just as wide as he was. He wished he could see it.

They hung up with the promise that Cas would call back in a little while after he’d gone about his morning routine, so Dean took the opportunity to get out of bed and into a shower, and then pour himself some lucky charms (scooping a few extra marshmallows out of the box.) He was settled comfortably in front of the TV, watching Maury deliver paternity results to overly dramatic couples, when his phone rang. His heart thudded in excitement as he answered. “Hey, Cas.” Like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas replied, and Dean grinned like an idiot. He turned the TV off and fell over sideways into the couch.

He hadn’t meant to unload his insecurities onto the guy, but the thoughts had been weighing heavily on his mind since dinner last night. “Dad saw me texting you and stuff yesterday,” he said.

“Oh, no,” Cas replied, with genuine concern. “Is everything-“

“Yeah, no, everything’s cool.” Dean tossed his free arm over his eyes, blocking out the light from the windows. “He didn’t see _who_ I was talking to. Just noticed how preoccupied I was, I guess. Asked me if I was talkin’ to a girl.”

“What did you say?” Cas asked, and Dean sighed.

“Told him my friend Benny’s girl was having car troubles, needed some advice. He dropped it after that, thank god.”

“So he has no idea?” Cas asked, and Dean didn’t ask what he meant. _He has no idea you’re on an online dating app? He has no idea you’re talking to a potential partner? He has no idea said potential partner is male? He has no idea you have any interest in males at all?_ The answer was all the same.

“No, I haven’t told him.”

“What do you think he would say?”

Dean considered the possibilities for a moment. “Well, he could just shrug and say, ‘whatever floats your boat,’ but that’s probably not gonna happen. He’s an ex-Marine. Used to be kinda religious, before… before. Pretty sure the most likely scenario involves calling me some sort of name, like fag or queer, maybe kicking me out of the house.”

Dean didn’t miss Castiel’s little gasp at the language. “Do you really think he’d do that?” He asked, and Dean shrugged to himself.

“Maybe. I dunno. I could always go stay with my uncle Bobby in South Dakota if that happened.”

Cas was silent for a moment, and Dean almost changed the subject when he finally spoke. “You would always have a place to go, here, if you needed it. You could stay with me.” Dean knew he meant it.

“Thanks, Cas,” he said, because he genuinely appreciated it, even if he hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

They spoke a little more about his father, and Cas almost suggested that they break off all contact for the sake of his safety, for the sake of his siblings, but Dean stopped that line of thought in its tracks. He couldn’t bear the thought of never talking to Cas again. The little bloom of warmth he felt in his chest was a welcome change. He hadn’t felt it in a long time. 

“No, Cas. Don’t even think like that. I’ll get through it. He’s gonna have to find out eventually. Might as well take matters into my own hands instead of trying to hide everything.” _Might as well tell him myself, instead of waiting for him to get ahold of my phone, or overhear one of our phone calls, or worse._ “I don’t want…” he sighed, choosing his words. He didn’t want to come on too strong and scare him away. “I like you a lot, Cas. I know it’s only been a couple days, but I don’t want to put a stop to whatever this is.”

He was relieved when Castiel agreed.

\--

Dean was still laid out on the couch when Sam and Charlie got home from school. He didn’t even bother to flip the channel, since he was too engrossed in Dr. Sexy to care what his siblings thought.

“GUESS WHAT,” Charlie’s voice rang through the house as Sam closed the front door behind them.

“What,” Dean asked, not tearing his eyes away from the screen. Nurse trainee Pamela was having a particularly difficult morality crisis. _Does she leave her abusive boyfriend for Dr. Sexy?_ Dean wanted to find out. No such luck.

Charlie skipped into the living room, swiping the remote from the coffee table and powering the TV down before Dean could even sit up. “Hey!” he shouted, tossing a pillow at his sister.

“Relax, diva,” Sam sighed from the kitchen. “Charlie recorded the whole series for you.”

Dean still grumbled, but it did nothing to squash Charlie’s cheerfulness. She held a piece over paper up and waved it in front of Dean’s face. “Guess what I have?” she sing-songed, and Dean rolled his eyes.

“Don’t give me that look,” she said, grabbing his hand and folding the paper into it. “It’s an application for Castiel! I got it from Mr. Powell today. He said all he needs to do is fill this out, attach his resume, and send it in.”

Dean unfolded the paper and looked it over. It was a simple application on the school’s letterhead. “That’s awesome, Charlie,” he said, and she beamed. “Thanks. I’ll just…” he faltered, wanting to say he’d call Cas, but realizing it might be going overboard to call a third time (even if he hadn’t technically initiated the second phone call.) “I’ll um. I’ll text him.”

Charlie narrowed her eyes at him. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” he said, getting up from the couch. “Do your homework. And thanks for getting this. Really.” He retreated to his room.

This was good. This was great. Cas would be happy. But, he realized, with a sudden jolt, this was also _it._ The thing that would initiate the conversation about actually meeting. He would have to get the application to Cas, somehow. And sure, they could fax it over, but did anyone even use faxes anymore? He paced his room as he thought. _Was it too soon to meet? Did he even want to meet Cas yet?_

 _Yes,_ came an emphatic voice in the back of his mind. _Yes, I absolutely do want to meet Cas._ The question was, would Cas want to meet him?

\--

Gabriel was at work. Castiel still hadn’t heard back from the school about his application. He hadn’t wanted to end the call with Dean, but neither one of them had eaten lunch, and he hadn’t moved from his spot on his bed since breakfast. His legs were falling asleep. They agreed to get up and go about their day, saying that they’d still text each other. “You just don’t want to miss Dr. Sexy,” Castiel had teased Dean, who made only a meek attempt to deny it.

So he’d made himself get up again, and fixed himself some taquitos in the toaster oven, and finally came to sit at the table on the back porch, sipping tea and outlining the basic sketches for a Bat Dean comic. His phone buzzed on the table. It was a notification from facebook. Charlie Bradbury wanted to be his friend. They had no mutuals, and the profile picture icon was just the raccoon from that new superhero movie that had just come out. He clicked on the profile.

 **Charlie Bradbury. Overlord at Nerd HQ. Studies AWESOMENESS at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.** Castiel clicked on the photo of the raccoon and swiped to the left to see the next one. A cute, redheaded girl with thick black-rimmed glasses was giving the Vulcan salute. The next photo was the same girl, trapped in the middle of a three-way hug with a tall, gangly boy and-

_Dean._

_Oh. Charlie._

He smiled and hit “accept.”

\--

A little while later, he received a message from Charlie. _Hey Cas! Your security settings are really low, you might want to fix that. It look me like no time at all to find you. Even if your name were like, Steve, or something normal, you’re like suspiciously easy to track down. ANYWAY HI don’t be creeped out that I friend requested you! Just wanted to let you know that I spoke to Mr. Powell (the director of the arts center) and he seems super interested in you! He gave me an application to give to you. Soooo naturally I’m gonna give it to Dean and let him worry about whether or not to give it to you in person (spoiler alert, he totally wants to meet you, he’s been making moony eyes at his phone for days.) If you don’t want to meet up yet, coolio, I totally get it. Just tell him to mail it to you. He probably won’t even think of that._

_PS you’re super adorable, just thought I’d throw that out there, Dean has excellent taste_

_PPS please don’t tell him I talked to you. Or friended you. Um. Okay._

_Laters!_

He read over the message twice, grinning at the now familiar nickname. The end of the message gave him pause, though. He absolutely wanted to meet Dean, _but was he ready to meet him yet?_ He wasn't sure. He decided to message her back in the mean time.

_Hello, Charlie. It's only 3:00, shouldn't you be in class? (I figured that if I am to be your teacher, I should say something authoritative like that.)_

_Anyhow, I am not "creeped out." Thank you so much for doing all of that on my behalf. I sincerely appreciate you thinking of me. As for my security settings: I may as well put everything on private now, as I am sure that employers research potential hires' social media accounts. Thank you for mentioning that. I will wait for Dean to contact me about the application. Thank you again._

Castiel sent the message and sat back in his chair in thought. He decided to text Meg, even though she was rarely helpful in these situations.

_Dean might want to meet. His sister got me an application for the art teacher position and I think he might ask to meet me in person to give it to me. What should I do?_

He let out a long, slow exhale and waited. A minute later, Meg's response came. She was never away from her phone for long.

 _Um. Meet him? See if the carpet matches the drapes? What's the problem?_ Castiel sighed.

_Am I ready to meet a stranger from the internet?_

_Do you really feel like he's a stranger?_

She had a point there.

\--

Dean spent a good ten minutes pacing back and forth, wearing a path in his carpet. He was distantly surprised that Charlie hadn't come nosing into his business, but he figured she must be too busy with homework. _What are you so worried about?_ he thought. _Cas. It's Cas. Of course he'll want to meet. And if he doesn't..._ Well. he'd cross that bridge when he came to it.

He finally sat down and composed a text. _Hey Cas. Charlie got an application for you from the school. You want me to mail it to you?_

 _Ugh,_ the aggressive voice in his head groused. _Coward._

\--

Gabriel ended up being the one who convinced him, oddly. He'd gotten home to find his little brother exerting infuriating calm on a watercolor painting.

"Uh oh," Gabriel came to lean against the table, careful not to bump anything. "You're watercoloring."

"Yes, Gabriel," Castiel sighed, holding his hand as steady as possible as he filled in some shading on the side of a cottage.

"Why ya' stress paintin', buddy?" he asked. Castiel only painted in watercolor when he was on the verge of a panic attack. It required intense focus. He found it calming.

"I'm waiting on Dean to ask me to meet him in person," Castiel replied.

"That's great!" Gabriel cried, forgetting himself and clapping his brother on the shoulder. Castiel glared up at him, thankfully paused with his brush in mid-air. "So what's the problem?"

Castiel sighed and set his brush in the water. "I don't know."

"Come on, Cassie," Gabriel ushered his little brother into the living room and sat him down on the couch. "Now," he said, hopping up on the arm rest, "you like this boy, right?" Castiel rolled his eyes. "Aaaaand, he likes you, and he's maybe ready to meet in person. Because he likes you. And he wants to maybe kiss your face."

"Gabe."

"Sorry. But really. This is good. You know why this is good? Because you've talked. A lot. He hasn't seen you except for a few pictures. Right?" Castiel nodded. "So if he likes you enough to want to meet you, it's because he really likes you for _you_ and not just because of your cutie patootie little face." He squeezed Castiel's cheek. "That's what you're worried about, right? You think he won't like you in person?"

Castiel gazed forlornly into his lap. "People generally find me... off-putting."

"Hey," Gabriel grabbed his brother's face and turned it to face his own, catching his eyes. "You, sir, are wonderful. And he's gonna love you. And if he doesn't, it's his loss. But he will. But if he doesn't... I'll kick his ass." Castiel laughed. Dean was over six feet tall and appeared to be full of muscle. It was hilarious to think of his tiny older brother kicking anyone's butt. "And/or I will steal his ass. One or the other."

Castiel shoved his brother off the couch.

\--

The text came soon after. _Hey Cas. Charlie got an application for you from the school. You want me to mail it to you?_

Castiel silently thanked Charlie and Gabriel for giving him the confidence to respond, _Why not give it to me in person?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, come say hey to me on [tumblr](http://glassclosetcastiel.tumblr.com)! No really. Like really.


	15. If it Weren't for You Meddling Kids

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is long and agonizing but totally necessary! It's gonna get frustrating, because I know you guys are going to be like JUST GET OVER YOURSELVES ALREADY, but I felt it was important to express that safety in online dating is VERY NECESSARY and is a worthwhile precaution. 
> 
> That said, have patience! I promise the next chapter will be everything you've ever dreamed about and more. Or something.
> 
> (PS, the TMoSI is not a real museum. I took some liberties with that and kind of decided that a Tampa museum was actually in Kansas. So. Forgive me.)
> 
> Enjoy!

Dean stared down at the phone until the screen went black, and then he clicked it on and looked again, just to be sure. _Why not give it to me in person?_ the text read, and Dean restrained himself from typing _hell fucking yes I want to give it to you in person._ So instead, he typed, _Of course. When’s good?_ and waited.

\--

Castiel only had about 30 seconds to panic about his impulsive text before Dean’s reply came. _Of course. When’s good?_ His heart thudded in his chest. _This was really happening._ Instead of answering, he crept back downstairs and was relieved to see that Gabriel was still watching TV. “Gabe?” Castiel asked, settling on the armrest of the loveseat across from his brother.

“Ye-es?” Gabriel replied, not looking away from his cupcake-baking competition show.

“I told Dean I wanted to meet him. He’s asking when is a good time. Is this going too fast? Am I making a mistake?” The words all came out in a rush.

Gabriel took pity on his brother and paused the show so that he could give Castiel his full attention. “Look, baby bro. Why don’t you tell me all about Dean, maybe show me his profile, we can do some snooping online, make sure he’s legit. Will that make you feel better?”

So that was how both Novak brothers ended up hunched over Castiel’s laptop on the dining room table, swooning over pictures of Dean Winchester.

“Holy shit, Cassie,” Gabe kept saying. “Holy. Shit.”

“I know.”

“But like. Holy _shit._ ”

“Yes, I know.”

“Does he have a brother?”

Castiel ignored the flirtation and went with a literal response. “Yes. And a sister.” He navigated to Charlie’s facebook profile and clicked through to the photo of the three siblings together. 

“ _Damn_ , there are some good genes in that family,” Gabriel said, leaning in closer to the screen, and Castiel sighed. 

“Sam is _sixteen,_ Gabe.”

Gabriel hummed in thought and quirked an eyebrow. “I can wait.”

Castiel ignored him. They looked through several albums of family photos, candid photos of the three siblings, photos of Charlie with friends from school, and photos of just Charlie and Sam. Almost every photo had multiple likes and a handful of comments each. A quick trip to random kids’ pages let them know that the comments were real and that Charlie, at least, was a real human being.

They visited Sam’s profile, as well, but since he and Castiel weren’t facebook friends, there wasn’t much available with his restricted privacy settings. “Well, we know that Charlie Bradbury is a person, and Sam Winchester is a person,” Gabriel reasoned, “although, do we know why Charlie’s last name isn’t Winchester? Is she one of those crazy kids who thinks she’s married to some dude from One Direction and changes her last name to match?”

“I don’t believe so," Castiel said, brow wrinkled at the thought. "From what Dean has said, I gathered that she was adopted, so that must have been her birth name,” He flipped back to Dean’s Plenty of Fish profile and began absentmindedly scrolling through his pictures for the hundredth time.

“So they’re real. And they’ve got pictures with their brother, who is a smokin’ hot guy who looks like this smokin’ hot guy,” Gabriel thumbed at the pictures on the computer screen. “And _this_ smokin’ hot guy says his name is Dean and that he has a brother and sister named Sam and Charlie.” Castiel rolled his eyes at his brother’s lasciviousness, but nodded.

“So,” Gabriel continued, “we can pretty much assume that this smokin’ hot guy is really who he says he is, and this _smoking hot delicious piece of man meat_ found you on this site _and_ messaged you first, _and_ stayed up all night talking to you, _and_ called you on the phone to give you a job opportunity, _and now he wants to meet you in person._ That about sum it up?” Castiel couldn’t help but smile proudly.

“Yes, that about sums it up.”

“Well then. I’ve got just one question for you, Cassie.” Castiel was sure he already knew what his brother would say. “What the actual _fuck_ are you waiting for?”

After hearing Gabriel list it all out like that, he realized that he deserved the tone. _What the actual eff, indeed._

\--

Castiel hadn't replied yet, which didn't necessarily mean anything. Still, Dean was pacing his room again. After about ten minutes, he decided to get a second opinion. And a third opinion. He peeked out the window to make sure that his father's truck wasn't in the driveway before coming back out to find his siblings in the kitchen.

"Hey," Dean said, resting a hip against the kitchen counter. Sam and Charlie were engrossed in their portable game things again, but as soon as they heard Dean's voice, they both paused and looked up expectantly. "Um," he went on, scratching the back of his head in thought.

"What did you say?" Charlie asked, setting her game down and leaning forward over the counter. Sam snapped his device shut, too, and leaned back in his chair, listening.

"I uh. I asked him if he wanted me to mail the application to him." Dean tried for nonchalance, but his siblings weren't buying it. Charlie groaned and Sam rolled his eyes. "Yes, I know, I'm a coward. There. I said it."

"What are you so worried about, Dean?" Sam asked, and Dean shrugged.

"Just didn't know if he'd want to meet me yet, no big deal." He didn't miss the exasperated glance that his younger siblings shared. "Anyway, thought you'd be interested to know that he said no, and that he'd like to meet instead."

Charlie let out an honest-to-god squeal, and Dean dutifully rolled his eyes as she jumped up and ran around the counter to hug him. "YESSS," she sang, and Dean gave her a couple of solid claps on the back before disentangling himself.

"O-kay, Elmyra. That's enough of that." Dean fished his phone out of his back pocket and clicked the screen lock to confirm, once again, that he had no messages. "I asked when would be a good time and he hasn't responded yet. That was like twenty minutes ago."

Charlie opened her mouth to respond, but they all heard the rumbling engine of their father's truck pulling up in the driveway. "D'you do your homework?" Dean asked.

"Friday, Dean," Sam reminded him. _Oh yeah._

"Hey, dad," Charlie greeted their father as he opened the door and kicked off his heavy work boots. John looked tired, but otherwise happy. He gave his daughter a little smile.

"Hey, Charles. Sam, Dean. How's everyone's day?"

"Good," Sam replied, and Dean nodded. 

"Dean, you wanna throw some meatballs together? I could go for spaghetti. How 'bout you all?" Of course, his phone chose that moment to buzz. Dean shut his eyes and cursed. _Goddamnit._

"Sure, dad. Just, ah... gimme a minute to wash up." Dean shot a signifigant look over to Charlie and Sam and headed for the bathroom, where he locked the door and leaned heavily against it, pulling his phone out to check the text.

 _How about Sunday?_ it read, and Dean let out a long, slow exhale before replying.

_Awesome._

\--

“The sooner the better, really,” Gabriel suggested, and Castiel had to agree. The sooner he got the job application, the sooner he could have it in to Mr. Powell at the high school.

“I know. What about next weekend?” Castiel wondered, but Gabe shook his head.

“You’re gonna wait a whole week? Seriously? You’ll give yourself an ulcer. Better to get it over with. Quick, like a Band-Aid.” He patted his little brother’s back. “Besides, I thought we were gonna do birthday stuff next weekend.”

 _Oh, right._ Castiel had barely thought about his birthday this year. 22 was a wholly unremarkable age, and ever since their father had left, neither Novak brother had felt much like celebrating any holidays. Still, Gabriel had insisted that this year they do something fun for Castiel’s birthday. Just the two of them. Castiel had decided on going to see The Maze Runner in theatres, because the book series was one of his favorites. Gabriel hadn’t even made fun of him for being hooked on dystopian young-adult fiction, as he was wont to do.

He knew that Meg was going to want to take him out, too, although he hoped that her plans would be tamer than their excursion to the gay club on his 21st birthday. Having to fend off unwanted advances from overly-aggressive men while very politely declining the fourteenth happy-21st-birthday shot from tipsy lesbians had not exactly been his idea of a great time.

So no, next weekend wouldn’t work.

“How about tomorrow?” Gabriel suggested, and Castiel snapped quickly out of his thoughts.

“Tomorrow? No.”

“Why not?” Gabriel poked him in the side, right where he knew his brother was ticklish, and Castiel stood up to avoid another jab.

“Because it’s _tomorrow?_ ” he pointed out, moving to the kitchen to rummage through the pantry. “I need more time to mentally prepare for this. Plus, he might have to work tomorrow. I don’t know. Not everyone is as hopelessly spontaneous as you, Gabe.” This earned him a shrug from his brother.

“Sunday, then,” Gabriel said, making a grabby motion at the box of fruit gummies that Castiel had pulled out of the cupboard. Castiel tossed him a package. “Nobody works on Sundays. That’ll give him plenty of time to _plan_ something, if he wants, and it’ll give you a whole two days to get over yourself.” He popped a whole handful of gummies into his mouth and broke into a mockingly sweet smile.

Castiel stuck the gummies back in the cupboard and leaned against the counter, thinking. _Sunday. Why not? Honestly, why not?_ He couldn’t think of a single reason. He sighed, and conceded, “Sunday it is, then.” Gabriel whooped in response.

Castiel pulled out his phone and composed a text before he could stop himself. His impulsive decisions with Dean had paid off so far. _How about Sunday?_

A minute later, he got his answer. _Awesome._ Castiel smiled like an idiot. Gabriel stayed mercifully silent.

\--

Dinner was uncomfortably quiet, despite the fact that all three siblings were itching to speak to one another. Charlie was able to ease some of the awkwardness by telling a long and complicated story about a kid in her computer programming class named Ash who had brought in his homemade computer and proceeded to spend the entire time remotely controlling the teacher’s computer and playing Metallica through the overhead speakers.

When the leftover food had been put away and the dishes loaded into the sink, Dean allowed himself to be followed into his bedroom by Sam and Charlie. He carefully shut his bedroom door behind them and sat on his bed. “Sunday,” he said, simply, and Charlie nodded.

“Sunday. Cool. We can do Sunday.”

Dean narrowed his eyes at her. “ _We?_ ”

“Um, yeah?” Sam answered for her, arching an eyebrow incredulously. “You think we’re gonna let you drive to another town to meet a stranger from the internet _by yourself?_ ” Charlie adopted an equally pointed expression, challenging Dean to deny them. Which, of course, he did.

“No way.”

“Dean.”

“No, Sammy, you’re not coming.”

“Why not?”

“Because, Charlie.”

“That’s not a good enough answer.”

“Yeah it is. I said no.”

“What if Cas _wants_ us to come?” Charlie asked, looking like she’d just played a winning hand, and Dean paused.

“Excuse me?”

Charlie gulped at her brother’s tone, but stayed resolute. “Cas wants us to come.”

Dean stood and crossed his arms. “And just _how_ do you know what Cas wants?”

Charlie was reduced to guilty-little-sister mode, looking down and away from her brother’s piercing gaze. “I maaaay or may not have friended him on facebook and I may or may not have been talking to him all day,” she practically squeaked.

Dean let out a frustrated huff and turned away, moving to flop back down on his bed. “What the hell, Charlie!”

“I figured he’d be intimidated if you asked him to meet up, so I just thought I’d tell him not to be worried about it and if he wasn’t ready it was totally cool, but if he was ready, that you were super into it and he shouldn’t be afraid to ask.”

 _Goddamn those puppy eyes,_ Dean cursed to himself. Both she and Sam were shooting them at him with laser focus, and he couldn’t help but sigh and relent.

“Fine! Great! Whatever. You ever think you might freak the guy out, though? Kinda weird having a teenage girl message you about her older brother.”

“I told him not to be freaked out,” Charlie insisted. “I was very professional about it.”

Dean groaned. “Whatever. What did he say?”

Charlie pulled out her phone. “I said, ‘hey, Dean says you want to meet. Awesome! Mind if we come? It’s not that we don’t trust you, but they drill that stranger danger stuff into our heads pretty hard.’ He said, ‘by all means, I certainly understand. My brother wasn’t going to let me meet Dean alone, either.’”

“Alright,” Dean said, scrubbing a hand over his face. “You can come. But I say ‘get lost,’ you get lost, okay? Seriously, I do not need my kid brother and sister hangin’ around on my date. Or. Whatever this is. Got it?”

“Got it,” Charlie agreed, and Sam nodded.

Dean sighed again and pulled his phone out of his pocket. He dialed Cas. It rang twice, and a familiar gravelly voice greeted him. “Hello, Dean.”

\--

_Hey! Dean says you want to meet. Awesome! Mind if we come? It’s not that we don’t trust you, but they drill that stranger danger stuff into our heads pretty hard._

Castiel smiled fondly at the message from Dean’s little sister. He was nearly 100% sure that Charlie hadn’t consulted Dean before inviting herself and her brother, and he knew that it would probably be a point of contention between all of them. But, if he were being totally honest with himself, he’d admit that he would be kind of relieved to have the kids there, too. It would make things a little bit less scary.

"What are you smilin' about?" Gabriel asked from his spot on the recliner, and Castiel shook his head with a laugh.

"Charlie and Sam want to come on Sunday, too."

" _Nice,_ " Gabriel said, and Castiel levelled his brother with a look.

"Gabriel, I swear to god, if you so much as _look_ at Sam Winchester-"

"Relax, Cassie," Gabriel cut off his tirade."I'm just kidding. Even _I'm_ not creepy enough to go after a kid ten years younger than me."

"Just... please don't be weird, please?" Castiel pleaded. "I really don't want to mess this thing up with Dean. I'm going to be nervous enough."

Gabriel held up three fingers. _Scout's honor._ "I promise I'll be on my best behavior."

"Thank you," Castiel said, typing out a reply to Charlie.

"So, what're you guys gonna do, anyway?" Gabriel asked, attention back on his reality television show

Castiel paused his typing to think. "Perhaps we could go to the science museum? I heard they were doing an exhibit about Da Vinci's flying machines..." he trailed off, hitting 'send' on the message to Charlie and searching the web for the Topeka Museum of Science and Industry website.

Gabriel snorted. "You're gonna take hot-as-balls Dean-o to the kids' science museum for your date? There's no way he's as big a nerd as you are. He'll be bored to tears."

Castiel huffed indignantly. "It's not _just_ a children's museum. They have very interesting exhibits for all ages." Still, he thought that perhaps Gabe was right. "I don't know. I suppose we could always go miniature golfing, or something."

"Yeah, your options are pretty limited," Gabriel agreed. "There's always bowling?"

Castiel knew his brother was joking. He was a terrible bowler. Last time the family had visited the bowling alley, Castiel had accidentally tossed the ball backwards and done several hundred dollars' worth of damage to the machinery in their lane.

"Very funny," he said, navigating to the special events portion of the website.

"Just trying to be helpful," Gabriel replied in a voice that suggested that he was enjoying being as un-helpful as possible.

"There's a renaissance festival there this weekend," Castiel read, scrolling through the museum events.

"Now _there's_ an idea," Gabriel said, and Castiel raised an eyebrow.

"You think going to the science museum is too nerdy, but going to a renaissance faire is perfectly acceptable for a first date?"

Gabriel turned in his seat to face his brother. "Dude, have you ever been to a renfest? They're cool as hell. Live jousting, giant fucking delicious turkey legs, hot girls in wench outfits..." he trailed off, seeing his brother's expression, and added, "hey, hot dudes in chainmail, too." He waggled his eyebrows.

Castiel rolled his eyes, but considered it. "I'll see what they think. It would almost certainly be more entertaining than miniature golfing."

\--

"Hey, Cas," Dean said, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice. Apparently, it didn't work.

“I’m assuming you spoke to Charlie, then,” Castiel said. He sounded amused.

“Yeah, yeah. Glad to know that you and my little sister are BFFs, now,” Dean huffed.

“I assure you, she had nothing but the best of intentions,” Cas said, and Dean shook his head at the guy’s formality, even though he secretly loved it.

“Yeah, well. I’ll deal with her later. Are you sure you’re cool with them coming?” Dean asked, running a hand through his hair. “I’m not gonna sugar-coat it, they’re kind of a pain in the ass.”

“Hey!” Charlie and Sam shouted at the same time, and Cas laughed into the phone.

“I really don’t mind. I actually found something that we might all have fun doing, if you’re interested.”

Dean felt a warmth in his chest at the thought that Cas not only didn’t mind his annoying siblings, but was trying to actively include them. “Hang on, Cas, let me put you on speaker.” Dean fumbled with the phone until he found the speaker button and held it aloft. “Okay, shoot.”

Castiel’s rough voice filled the small room, so Dean hurried to turn the volume down so his father wouldn’t hear. “Well, I thought perhaps that it might be fun for us to all go to the museum of science and industry, but my brother suggested that I might be the only person on Earth who enjoys going to science museums for leisure.”

“ _My exact words were, ‘there’s no way that your hot boyfriend is gonna be as big a nerd as you are_ ,” another voice called from the background, and Dean laughed.

“That Gabriel?” He asked, catching Sam’s eye. His little brother had raised an eyebrow at ‘boyfriend,’ but Dean wasn’t bothered by the teasing. Nor did he mind the implication. It actually sounded kind of nice.

“Yes,” Cas sighed. “Sorry about him. Anyway, I read online that they’re having a renaissance festival there this weekend. Is that something you all would be interested in?” His last words were muffled by the sound of Charlie squealing.

“Whoa, hang on, hang on Cas,” Dean covered the mouthpiece of the phone with his hand and turned his attention on his sister. “What is _that_ about?”

“Hello! Renaissance festival!” she threw her hands up exasperatedly in a way that suggested that she couldn’t fathom why her brothers weren’t also squealing in delight. “I have _always_ wanted to go to a renfest! We can dress up! _I CAN DRESS YOU GUYS UP!_ ”

“Whoa, whoa,” Dean held out a hand to calm her. “I’m not dressin’ up.” He held the phone back up to his mouth. “What does that involve, Cas?”

“From what I can see, it looks like admission is $15 per person, but if you bring in canned goods for donation, they take five dollars off. It includes admission to jousting, human chess, concerts, demonstrations, LARPing-“

“WE HAVE TO GO!” Charlie cried, and Dean shushed her, shooting his eyes to the door to remind her that their father would hear her. “ _Sorry,_ ” she whispered.

Dean looked at Sam. “Sammy? You down for gettin’ medieval?”

“Medieval times and the renaissance are different, Dean,” his little brother retorted, and Dean made a face. “But yeah, that sounds like fun. We can pay for ourselves,” he added, and Charlie nodded in agreement.

“Alright, Cas. Whaddya say? Sound like a plan?” Dean asked into the phone, and Charlie beamed at him.

“Sounds like a plan.” The guy sounded so happy. Dean decided then and there that he wanted to hear Castiel’s happy voice as often as possible, and he wanted to be the one that caused it, too.

“What time should we come?” he asked, and Castiel hummed in thought.

“The doors open at 10:00 a.m., so perhaps come around then and we can carpool to the museum? We can get lunch there. I hear the turkey legs are excellent.”

“That settles it,” Dean grinned, imaging having a whole giant turkey leg all to himself. “We’ll see you on Sunday around ten.”

“Great,” Cas replied, and Dean could hear his smile through the phone. “See you then.”

“Can’t wait to meet you, Dean-o!” Gabriel’s voice sounded in the background, and Dean laughed.

“Ditto, Gabe,” Dean called, loudly enough that the brother might hear him. “Talk to you later, Cas,” he added quietly, taking the phone off speaker.

“I look forward to finally meeting you, Dean,” Cas replied.

“Same here.”

They disconnected the call, and Dean looked up at his siblings. Ever the voice of reason, Sam posed the question that Dean had been trying to avoid thinking about.

“What are we gonna tell dad?”

Charlie bit her lip and looked to Dean. “We could always just tell him the truth?” Dean shot her a murderous glare, so she added, “no, I mean, tell him the truth about where we’re going. Just… leave out the part about Cas.”

Dean thought about it. It wouldn’t be that far-fetched. Topeka was only a half hour away, and Charlie and Sammy were big enough nerds that taking them to a science museum on a weekend wouldn’t be out of character. “Alright, we’ll tell him. But don’t say anything until Sunday. We’ll just mention it on our way out the door. I don’t want to give him any excuse to tell us we can’t go.”

Sam and Charlie nodded in agreement, and Dean let out a long, slow breath. _This was really happening._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...so I might have accidentally become a reluctant Sabriel shipper? It won't happen in this fic, obviously, but I still think Gabe would have the hots for Sammy. Because he's gross.
> 
> Anyway...
> 
> As always, come find me on [tumblr](http://glassclosetcastiel.tumblr.com)! No, really!


	16. I See You Shiver with Antici-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was all going to be one chapter, but it became way too long. Fortunately, you won't have to wait long for the next chapter! (I'll probably post it later today since they go together.) 
> 
> And now, the moment you've all been waiting for! 
> 
> *holds breath forever*

Saturday passed by in a haze of nervous anticipation. Charlie insisted on being taken to Goodwill to get ‘supplies,’ so Dean shuttled his younger siblings down to the small shopping plaza where the second-hand store was situated and excused himself to the section with used movies and music. He glanced around before picking up an Ace of Base tape, quickly covering it with Alice in Chains and Pearl Jam cassettes.

There was a previously-viewed copy of Labyrinth, which _hell yes he was going to buy,_ because Labyrinth was _fucking awesome,_ and it had nothing at all to do with David Bowie in tight leather pants. He spent a few more minutes perusing the DVD selection before Charlie caught his attention from the dressing rooms.

“Dean!” She waved him over, peeking halfway out of one of the changing stalls. Sam was standing against the wall opposite her with his arms crossed. He gave Dean a lopsided smile as he came over and got a good look at Charlie. She had a maroon prom dress hiked up to her hips with a pair of tan leggings underneath.

“Okay,” she said, adjusting the bulk of the dress so that it was securely behind her back. “I’m thinking I can cut off most of the skirt and make it sort of a tunic, and then you can use some of the spare fabric for little sleeves. Maybe cut it down the center and add some grommets? Make it like a corsette?” She looked up at Dean expectantly. 

He hadn’t missed the way she’d said “ _you._ ” Dean knew how to sew, _no big deal._ If anyone ever asked, he’d tell them he’d learned his way around a needle and thread to be able to sew his own stitches, but in reality, it was a useful skill to have when your sasquatch little brother outgrew everything in a matter of months and your deadbeat dad wasn’t making any shopping trips.

He sighed. “Yeah, alright. No grommets, though. That’ll take forever.” Charlie let go of the skirt and clapped.

“Yesss, thank you. I’m thinking brown belt and boots. What do you think?” She hiked the skirt up again and turned this way and that, arching her eyebrows at Dean in question.

Dean looked from her to Sam, who just shrugged. “I don’t know, sure?” He lowered his voice. “I’m not some sort of fashion expert just because I like dudes, okay?”

“Wow, **so** not why I was asking you, Mr. Defensive,” Charlie let go of the skirt again and closed the door to the stall. 

In the end, she decided on the dress, leggings, a pair of knew-high brown leather boots and a segmented brown belt. She tried to get Sam into a puffy white shirt and yellow vest, but he insisted that he would wear Charlie’s elf ears if she’d leave him alone, and that appeased her. Dean pulled a twenty out of his wallet to pay for the lot and they headed home.

 _You’ve created a monster,_ he texted Cas.

 _Oh no, what happened?_ came the reply a minute later.  
Dean watched as the floor of the den was covered with maroon fabric and sewing supplies. _Charlie’s going nuts with her costume for tomorrow._

 _What, you’re not dressing up?_ Cas replied, and Dean shook his head and laughed.

_No way. Am I gonna show up and you’ll be in some kind of weird outfit? Tell me now, _he joked.__

_No, I think I’ll save the weird outfits for the second date,_ Castiel replied, and Dean laughed out loud at that. At the same time, his heart did a little flip-flop. They hadn’t really discussed what _this_ was, so he was glad to hear that Castiel considered it a date, even if it would be a _really fucking weird one._

“Okay,” Charlie looked up at him from the middle of the pile of fabric. “Ready for you.” 

_Gotta go, Cas, talk to you later,_ he shot off, pocketing his phone. “Alright,” he instructed Charlie. “Stand up and put that dress on. We’ve got some measuring to do.” 

\-- 

Castiel woke up to his phone buzzing and didn’t even mind. _Morning Cas,_ the text read, and he smiled as he typed out a response. _Good morning, Dean._

_Tomorrow,_ he realized. _I’m meeting Dean tomorrow._ The thought made him feel sick with anticipation. _Please god don’t get sick,_ he pleaded with his body. _Keep it together for me, just this once._

Gabriel was at work, so he spent the morning cleaning the house. It wasn’t generally messy with just the two of them, apart from Gabriel’s tendency to leave candy wrappers and empty ice cream bowls laying around, but Castiel suddenly noticed all sorts of things that needed cleaning: layers of dust coating picture frames, the specks of dirt in the rugs, dust bunnies hiding out in corners. He swept, mopped and vacuumed, did two loads of laundry, ran a load of dishes through the washer, and even went so far as to dust every horizontal surface. 

By the time he finished, it was only a little after 1:00. He stood in the middle of his bedroom, surveying the art on the walls and wondering if he should do any rearranging. In the end, he decided that it all looked okay. His bed was made (even though he knew he’d just mess it up again sleeping in it that night,) his books were in a state of organized chaos on their shelves, and the spaces on his walls that weren’t taken up by paintings or drawings were an appealing shade of blue. It wasn’t much, but it was presentable. 

He sat heavily down on his bed and checked his phone, but there were no new messages. Dean was busy helping Charlie with her costume for tomorrow. _Tomorrow._ Which reminded him. He composed a text to Meg. 

_I need your help._

True to form, Meg called not five seconds later. Once Castiel filled her in on the situation, she was on her way over to the house. She arrived about ten minutes later cradling several bottles of hair products and her makeup bag. 

"Megan Beverly Ann Masters," Castiel growled, using her full name as ammunition as he trailed his friend upstairs to his bedroom. "I am _not_ wearing makeup. We went over this during that photo shoot. Dean is just going to have to accept me, imperfect skin and all." 

"I told you, you're not technically wearing makeup if you're just wearing a little base," she insisted, dumping the hair products and her makeup bag on the bed. 

"Regardless, I'm not going to let you put foundation on my face." 

Meg huffed in frustration and flopped down onto the beg next to her supplies. "Fine. But at least let me give you a lip treatment. Your lips are like, permantly chapped. It's a problem. Nobody wants to kiss that." 

"You wanted to," Castiel shot back with a wry smile, and Meg rolled her eyes in return. 

"Yeah, well. I'm different. Come on, please? Just a little lip treatment." 

Castiel sighed. "Fine." 

"And a little eyebrow maintenance." 

"Why not." 

"...and a little rouge." 

"Absolutely not." 

__\--_ _

Castiel felt a bit like one of those poor little girls from that awful Toddlers and Tiaras show that Gabriel sometimes watched. He had all but escaped the fake tan that Meg insisted would “give him a healthy glow” because he “looked like he’d been living in a cave in Russia his whole life.” He considered pointing out that he was ever so slightly tanner than Meg was, but he kept the thought to himself. In the end, he escaped relatively unscathed, apart from the burning sensation in his lips and the sting between his eyebrows. Meg was a very forceful plucker. 

“Tell me you’re wearing contacts,” Meg eyed her friend in the mirror as she arranged his hair into a more manageable shape. 

“He said he likes my glasses,” Castiel replied, brows scrunched together in annoyance. 

Meg sighed loudly. “Whatever floats his boat, babe.” She gave his locks one last tousle and stood back. “There. Think you can pull this off tomorrow?” 

Castiel turned his head, viewing the style from different angles. It looked a lot like how she’d done it for him during the photo shoot, and he had to admit it was drastically better than his usual disheveled mop. “I believe so,” he said, reaching a tentative hand up to touch it. 

“Good. Now. Clothes.” She smacked him on the butt and retreated to his bedroom to rummage through his closet. 

__\--_ _

“Clothes,” Charlie insisted, gesturing toward Dean’s closet. 

__“Um,” Dean replied._ _

__“What are you wearing?”_ _

__“Clothes?” Dean repeated, stupidly, and Charlie groaned._ _

__She appraised him, and then crossed to his closet. “Wear the tight grey shirt and your nice jeans. And your good leather boots, not those gross ones.”_ _

__Dean watched as she kicked around the bottom of his closet, looking for the boots in question. “That’s the exact same outfit I wore to meet Aaron.”_ _

__“Yeah, good,” she said, and cried out in victory when she found the shoes. “You looked good that day, and he didn’t appreciate it. So.” She thrust the boots into his arms and left the room, putting a little more swagger into her step than usual. Dean rolled his eyes at her retreating back, wondering if she would ever want to take the outfit off. Their combined efforts had been successful, and Charlie was now the proud owner of a pretty badass knight costume. All that was missing was the armor._ _

__Dean set the boots down on his floor and went to his closet to retrieve the grey Henley and jeans, and laid them out on his dresser. He looked at his phone and was disappointed to see no new messages, but he figured Cas was probably as busy getting ready for tomorrow as he was. The anticipation was bubbling in his gut. He hoped he wouldn’t make himself sick from nervousness._ _

__By the time their father got home, the three siblings had gathered canned goods, sunscreen and bottles of water into a knapsack and hid it away in Dean’s room, argued over Sam’s apparent need of a braided headband to match his elf ears, and watched A Knight’s Tale to get in the right mindset. They sat down to eat leftover spaghetti and meatballs in buzzing silence._ _

__After a while, John sensed that something was up. He glanced thoughtfully between his children while he chewed, and finally spoke. “What’s the deal with you three? Haven’t heard you this quiet in a long time.” He thankfully didn’t mention the last time they’d all been this quiet. It was after their mother’s death. “’Course, this is a different kind of quiet. What’s up?”_ _

__Dean caught his brother’s eye and nodded almost imperceptibly, giving Sam the go-ahead to explain. He knew his little brother could talk his way into or out of any situation. The kid could make a kickass lawyer someday._ _

__“There’s a renaissance festival over at the museum of science and industry this weekend, and we get extra credit in our AP World History class if we go. Dean said he’d take us.” Dean was only a little bothered by the ease with which his brother lied. He was more proud than anything._ _

__“Renaissance festival, huh?” John asked, taking a piece of garlic bread. “What’s that all about?”_ _

Charlie took over the explanation. “It’s kind of like civil war reenactments, but with like knights and kings and queens and stuff.” _Thank god for Charlie,_ putting it in terms their father would understand. John was friends with a few guys who did reenactments. 

__He pursed his lips and nodded. “And you get extra credit for goin’?”_ _

Sam and Charlie nodded vigorously. “They’re doing a canned food drive, too, so if we bring in cans we get 33% off admission,” Sam said, and _thank god for him, too,_ spinning the $5 off thing to make it sound much more impressive. 

__“Alright, well, have fun with that, I guess,” their dad said. “You got enough money?” He directed the question at Dean, who nodded._ _

__“Yes sir. Sam and Charlie said they’d pay for themselves to get in; I’ll buy ‘em food. We should be good.”_ _

And with that, it was decided. John nodded again and let the subject drop. Dean breathed a sigh of relief and wondered _just when in the hell his good luck was going to run out._

__\--_ _

__Castiel felt a little nauseous with anxiety for the rest of the evening, waving a halfhearted goodbye to Meg and retreating to his room to read. Dean sent him a text a little while later, and he perked up just from reading it._ _

_All set and ready for tomorrow. Got our canned goods, Charlie’s all suited up, Sammy’s got some weird elf ears goin’ on. Now we just need you :)_

Castiel smiled. _I’m glad I thought to ask you about going to the festival. I didn’t anticipate that they would be so enthusiastic about it, but I’m glad they are._

_Me too. I’m actually getting excited about it, too. How bout you, Cas? You pumped?_

Castiel laughed a little to himself and replied, _I am indeed “pumped.” Most excited to meet you, however._ It was true. He’d be excited to go to the DMV if Dean were going to be there. 

_Awesome,_ Dean replied a minute later, and Castiel felt his earlier tension easing. Dean was excited to meet him, too. With that reassuring thought in mind, Castiel sent off a few more texts to Dean and said goodnight, reading until his eyes drooped and he drifted off to sleep. 

__\--_ _

Dean was up by 6:30. He hopped into the shower before anyone else could hog the bathroom, making sure to condition his hair a little bit. He shaved and styled his hair with some paste, splashed on a hint of cologne, and dressed in the outfit Charlie picked out for him. He surveyed himself in the mirror and decided that his little sis knew what she was talking about. He looked damn good _if he did say so himself._

__Sam was awake and cooking some egg white concoction when Dean went to the kitchen to brew coffee. He wrinkled his nose at his little brother’s healthy breakfast and grabbed a bowl for cocoa puffs. Sam rolled his eyes._ _

__“You’re going to get diabetes,” he warned, but Dean just shrugged._ _

“Rather have diabetes and eat delicious food than be a health nut and have to eat _that_.” He inclined his head to the white and green blob on the skillet, and Sam just shook his head. 

__A few minutes later, Charlie blew into the kitchen from her bedroom, dressed in her tan leggings and a grey long-sleeve shirt, hair in a wild bun on top of her head. She grabbed the cocoa puffs from Dean, pouring some into a bowl without milk before rushing back to into her room._ _

__“She does know that I’m the one who should be nervous about meeting Cas, right?” Dean grumbled, and Sam snorted into his omelet._ _

__\--_ _

__By 9:15, Sam had his ears glued on, Charlie was done up impeccably in her knight costume, and Dean was sweating bullets. Sam grabbed the knapsack with the canned goods and water bottles and clapped his brother on the back. “You ready?”_ _

__Dean exhaled. “Yeah. Let’s go.” He shot off a quick text to Cas and headed out the door. Their father wasn’t up and about yet, but Charlie still called goodbye to him as they left._ _

__Dean cranked up the Pearl Jam and sang at the top of his lungs all the way to Topeka. Sam and Charlie could tell that he was nervous and didn’t want to talk about it, so they remained silent, occasionally piping up to give directions from the GPS. They made the turnoff to Topeka right at 9:45, and by 9:53, they were pulling onto Castiel’s street- Anderson Terrace- passing well-manicured lawns and impressive cars._ _

__“401, there,” Charlie pointed to a stately two-story house on their left, and Dean drew a deep breath as he pulled the car into the drive. The house was huge, painted bright white with brown accents and a slanted roof, surrounded by flowerbeds and untamed greenery. Sam craned his neck up and whistled._ _

__“Nice place.”_ _

__Dean suddenly felt sick._ _

__\--_ _

__Castiel woke up at the ungodly hour of 8:00 a.m. and Gabriel was already awake and humming. Castiel shot him a dirty look as he made himself a too-strong mug of orange pekoe tea and retreated back upstairs to get ready._ _

__After showering, he tried his best to tame his unruly hair into the coiffed perfection that Meg had achieved the day before, but to no avail. It ended up looking greasy and gross. He briefly considered calling his friend to help him out again, but he knew she would insist on staying to meet Dean. Castiel loved Meg, but he wasn’t quite ready to introduce her to his love interest. That was a disaster that could happen another day._ _

__He ended up wetting his hair and starting over again, opting to towel it dry and hope for the best without any hair products. Meg had left her crème foundation in hopes that he would brush some on, but he grimaced at the bottle and left the bathroom without applying any._ _

__After trying on nearly every outfit he owned, Meg had decided that he should wear a blue button-down shirt (because it brought out his eyes,) and a waistcoat and black pants. Castiel pulled the outfit on and turned in the mirror, sighing. Yes, it looked good, but it was also an outfit for dinner at a nice restaurant, not a day out in the hot sun eating turkey legs and walking in mud. He shed the outfit and flicked through his closet._ _

Finally, he settled on a simple pair of jeans and a t-shirt. He would rather be comfortable than have to walk around all day feeling overdressed. He decided he would wear the other outfit next time. _If there was a next time._

By the time 9:15 rolled around, Castiel was jittery and anxious. Dean sent him a text at 9:18, _on our way to you,_ and he let out a long, shaky exhale. He tried to read his book but couldn’t absorb anything. Eventually, he wound his way downstairs and sat down across from Gabriel in front of the TV. 

__“Distract me, please,” he pleaded._ _

__“I ever tell you about the twins in the elevator?” Gabriel asked, turning in his seat to face his brother head-on._ _

__Castiel groaned but listened, silently thanking his brother for just being there._ _

__At 9:57 a.m., the doorbell rang, and Gabriel grinned maniacally. “Show time.”_ _

__\--_ _

__“Dean?” Sam asked after a minute. They were still in the car, and Dean was sitting still as a statue, staring up at the house._ _

__“Hm?” he hummed, and Sam clapped his shoulder._ _

__“Come on, man. Let’s do this.”_ _

__Charlie leaned forward over the front seat to give her big brother an awkward hug. “It’s gonna be great, Cas is amazing and we’re gonna have a good time today and you’re gonna fall in love and make little gay babies and-“_ _

__“Okay,” Dean snapped out of his trance and shoved his sister away. “Enough. Let’s do this.”_ _

__They gathered around the front door and Dean knocked. He could feel his whole body vibrating with nervous energy. A moment later, the door swung open and a familiar set of intense blue eyes greeted him. “Hello, Dean.”_ _

__\--_ _

Castiel briefly felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him, because _jesus,_ Dean Winchester was standing on his doorstep, and he was just as devastatingly handsome as he’d looked in his pictures. “Hello, Dean,” he reminded himself to say, and he grinned like a fool when Dean answered, “hey, Cas.” 

__They stood and stared at one another for a moment until Castiel heard his brother clear his throat. “Well, this is awkward.”_ _

__“Sorry,” Castiel shook his head, averting his eyes before he could be further entranced. “Uh, Dean, this is Gabriel,” he stepped aside, gesturing toward his brother._ _

__“Nice to meet you, Dean-o,” Gabriel said, waving his arm to usher them all inside. “Come on in. You must be Sam. Holy shitballs, you’re tall.”_ _

__Castiel found himself being enveloped in a tight hug by Charlie, who was spectacularly costumed in medieval garb. “Ergggh, I’m so happy to meet you finally,” she said, and beamed up at him._ _

__"It's wonderful to meet you, too, Charlie," he replied. She released him and went to shake hands with Gabriel, and Sam came to greet him next. The boy was indeed taller than him by at least a few inches, and he was pulled into yet another hug. He gasped as his feet left the ground for an instant._ _

__“Sorry,” Sam said, grinning from ear to ear. “Nice to meet you.”_ _

__“Sorry about him,” Dean said from his place by the door, green eyes sparkling. “We’re huggers in this family.”_ _

__Castiel couldn’t help the contented sigh that escaped him when Dean moved to pull him into his own hug, which was much closer and lasted longer than either of the others. Dean was solid and warm and smelled like something fresh and earthy, and Castiel laughed into his shoulder. “I’m so glad you’re here,” he said, softly enough so that only Dean would hear._ _

__“Me too, man,” Dean replied, holding him tight._ _

__Castiel didn’t miss his brother’s flirtatious overtures at Sam, nor did he miss the younger Winchester’s uncomfortable laugh, but he couldn’t seem to care at the moment. When he and Dean finally pulled apart, they stayed in each other’s space as if magnetized. Castiel listened as Charlie explained her outfit, but found himself glancing over at Dean every few minutes, just to make sure he was really there. More than once, he caught Dean looking at him, too, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d say that Dean looked just as mystified as he felt._ _

__\--_ _

__Cas was gorgeous._ _

Dean found himself completely stupefied as he stared at the guy in front of him. He, thankfully, looked just like the last photo on his dating profile. Disheveled but clean, with messy hair and a little hint of stubble. _And those eyes._

He followed the Novak brothers inside and let Charlie and Sam hug it out with Cas before he took his turn. He got the feeling from the guy’s stiff posture that he wasn’t much of a hugger, but Cas relaxed almost immediately into the embrace and gripped back tightly. He was lean and muscular, like a distance runner, and he was just an inch or two shorter than Dean. Perfect hugging height. _Perfect kissing height,_ his brain added, but they’d get to that later. Hopefully. 

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Cas whispered to him, and he felt a surge of warmth bloom in his chest. _God,_ was he glad, too. He said as much. They finally pulled away, but Dean couldn’t help but keep staring. He wanted to reach out and touch, but didn’t want to make things awkward. It was weird enough with Castiel’s older brother hitting on Sam. Thankfully, Sam was taking it like a champ and only looked marginally uncomfortable. 

__“Alright, well, I’m sufficiently satisfied that you’re not serial killers,” Gabriel announced, and waved at them all. “You kids have fun.”_ _

__Dean looked around at his siblings. “Ready to go?” They nodded. Castiel grabbed a brown paper bag full of soup cans off the counter, and Dean reached for it. “Let me get that.”_ _

__Cas let him take the bag, and he didn’t miss the slight blush that crept over his face at Dean’s chivalry. He dropped the bag in the trunk and ordered Sam and Charlie to jump in the back seat, but Sam was already ushering Cas into the front. Dean could feel the muscles in his face burning from smiling so much. He didn’t care._ _

__“Your car is beautiful, Dean,” Castiel said in that gravelly voice of his, running a hand along the leather seats in reverence._ _

_Another point for Cas,_ Dean decided, and pulled the car out of the drive. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yayyyyyy  
> Now come say hey to me on [tumblr](http://glassclosetcastiel.tumblr.com)! No really.


	17. -pation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part two of the epic first-meeting spectacular! (If you haven't read part one, don't worry. I posted it earlier today. Check out chapter 16 before reading this one.)

They arrived at the museum while the sun was still low in the sky, and the four of them grabbed their canned goods and followed the signs around the building to the back gardens, where grounds had been transformed into a magical forest. Colorful paper banners hung from trees and light posts, welcoming them to “Ye Olde TMoSI.” Red and white tents lay sprawled out in every direction, and hundreds of people could be seen milling about, some in street clothes like them, but most in elaborate costumes.

They set their cans down on a growing pile of donations and paid for their entrance. Dean tried to pay for Castiel, but he refused, saying that he’d compromise and let Dean get him a turkey leg later. Dean grinned and agreed. A large woman with bright pink fairy wings greeted them and handed them programs, bidding them a “magical day.”

Charlie was practically jumping with excitement, so Dean stopped them all and opened his program. “Alright, you two can go do whatever, but let’s all meet up at…” he trailed off, scanning the schedule of events. “Okay, let’s meet up at 12:15 at the human chessboard. We’ll grab some lunch together. Sound good?”

Sam and Charlie agreed and headed off, going toward the wooded area at the back of the grounds where signs proclaimed it the “Kingdom of Moondoor.” Dean let out a breath and turned to Castiel. “That was easy,” he said, grinning again, and Castiel laughed.

“What should we do first?”

Dean hummed as he scanned his program, and Castiel took the opportunity to study him. He was incredibly attractive, but in a casual way, like he didn’t have to try, and Castiel suspected that he probably didn’t. But his attractiveness stemmed more from his composure than his physical beauty. Dean had an unflappable confidence about him that was hard to miss. 

Castiel was already noticing the looks that Dean got from girls. Instead of making him jealous, it gave him a sort of pride that he was sure he should feel guilty about, but didn’t. It was he that Dean was smiling at, and it was he that Dean was laughing with. It made him feel a little bold. He placed a hand at the small of Dean’s back while the man searched for something to do, and was rewarded with a smirk, though his eyes never left the page.

“Says here there’s live jousting at 10:30, you wanna check that out?” Dean asked, finally lifting his eyes to meet Castiel’s, and Cas nodded in agreement. They set off together toward an open area where a small crowd of people was gathered on a set of bleachers. Dean gestured for Castiel to step up first, and they settled onto the end of a row next to a couple of girls dressed as elves.

“You ever seen A Knight’s Tale?” Dean asked him, and he shook his head. “Oh man. Okay. We’re watching that. Great movie.”

Castiel smiled. He’d very much like to have a movie night with Dean. “Have you ever seen The Princess Bride?” he countered, and Dean scoffed.

“Are you kidding? That’s only one of my favorite movies ever.” Castiel beamed.

They went on like this for a few minutes until a booming voice sounded over the loudspeakers. “Lords, ladies, fine gentlemen and women, welcome to the jousting tournament! We have a special treat for you today. All the way from the land of Roma, I present to you, Sir Lucenzo Draconis!” A black horse approached, ridden by a knight in black and red, with heavily decorated silver armor. He held a black lance. The crowd applauded as the knight pulled his horse to a stop in front of the stands.

“And, of course, it is my absolute honor to present to you, our hometown hero, Sir Michael the Lionheart!” the announcer boomed, and a dappled white horse carrying an impressive knight clad in green came galloping from the other direction. It halted just feet from the black horse and rider, and the crowd cheered. “Now, ladies and gentlemen, this experience will not be for the faint of heart. I suggest you hold your children tight, and remember, do not try this at home.”

Castiel and Dean exchanged a look and laughed as the horses and riders drew away to opposite sides of the arena on either side of a low wooden fence. At the announcer’s call, the riders dug in their heels and the horses charged. They held out their lances and crashed against each other, the black knight’s lance shattering as it hit the green knight’s armor.

“Holy shit,” Dean said, “this is bad ass.” Castiel just looked at him, unable to keep the amusement off of his face. “What?” Dean asked

“You didn’t think you would enjoy this, did you?” 

Dean shoved his shoulder playfully. “Shut up.” He grinned widely and turned his attention back to the knights, but Castiel found himself spending more time watching Dean than the jousting.

\--

Dean couldn’t help but feel pulled to Cas, again and again, and found himself using any excuse to touch him. A playful shove, a hand on his shoulder, mussing his hair. Dean couldn’t get enough. Fortunately for him, Castiel didn’t seem to mind, and had taken to placing a hand on the small of Dean’s back while they walked. He decided he liked the way it felt, and leaned into it when he could.

Castiel wanted to visit the peddlers’ village, so they headed for the row of little stalls and huts where artisans and craftsmen set up shop to sell their wares. Dean watched in fascination as Castiel examined everything with incredible focus, as if each trinket were something of great importance. _And maybe,_ Dean thought, _to him, they were._ He noticed the way one of the female shopkeepers flirted with Cas, who seemed completely oblivious, and Dean couldn’t help but preen when the blue-eyed man turned away from her to show him an intricately woven leather wristband, all attention on Dean. Maybe it was wrong, but he felt amazing having that laser focus turned on him, and only him. He told the shopkeeper to keep the change when he bought two matching wristbands, brown for himself and black for Cas.

They continued down the row of shops, pausing to look at paintings and crafts, chatting with the artisans, but mostly just laughing. Castiel pulled Dean into a stall with colorful knitted hats, snapping picture after picture as he pulled increasingly more ridiculous hats over Dean’s head. Castiel bought one for himself that was shaped like the sorting hat, and Dean bought one for Sam that had moose antlers.

By noon, Dean was starving. He pulled out his phone and saw that he had a missed call from Sam. “Hang on, Cas,” he stopped with a hand on his arm, and called Sam back.

“Hey, Dean,” Sam’s voice came over a loud clattering in the background. Dean held a finger to his other ear.

“Sammy? I can barely hear you.”

“Sorry, hang on,” his little brother said, and presumably moved to a quieter place. “That better?”

“Yeah. What’s up?”

“I don’t think we’re gonna meet up with you to get lunch,” Sam said, and Dean heard someone shouting in the background. He tensed.

“Everything okay?” Castiel placed a reassuring hand on his upper arm and raised his eyebrows in question. Dean just shook his head. _I don’t know._

“Um, yeah,” Sam said, and he sounded amused. Dean relaxed a little. “You and Cas should probably go ahead and get food and meet us over here.”

“Where are you?”

“We’re in Moondoor. Follow the signs,” Sam said. “You’ll see us.”

“Okay, be there in fifteen,” Dean replied, and hung up. “I don’t know what that was all about,” he explained to Cas, “but they want us to just get food and meet them in Mordor.”

“Moondoor,” Castiel corrected with a laugh, and Dean shoved him again, lightly, just because he felt like it.

“Come on, you,” he grabbed Castiel’s elbow and started walking, and didn’t let go until they got to the food carts.

\--

Castiel wanted to grab Dean’s hand and hold it. He wanted it more than just about anything at the moment, but he wasn’t sure if it would make Dean uncomfortable, and even if it didn’t necessarily make _him_ feel uncomfortable, the sight of two men holding hands was sure to raise a few eyebrows, even in a place like a renaissance festival. So, Castiel contended himself with resting a hand on Dean’s back or under his elbow, and allowed himself to bask in the wonder of Dean touching him back.

They each ordered a turkey leg, and Dean finished his before Castiel had even gotten through half of his own. Dean laughed at Castiel’s frustration, taking a few pictures of him while he tried to get his teeth through it.

Eventually, they set off for the back forest, and when they got a safe distance away from the crowds, Castiel threaded his arm through Dean’s and smiled to himself when the other man crooked his arm just so, locking their elbows together. It wasn’t hand-holding, but it was close enough.

They began to hear shouts just outside of the tall wooden gate welcoming them to the Kingdom of Moondoor, and they stepped curiously inside and looked around. There was a battle going on. People clad in red, green, and black were running around, jabbing fake swords at one another and tossing around multicolored beanbags. It was chaos.

“Dean!” someone shouted, and the looked up to see Sam a little ways off behind the battle. They skirted the tussle and looped around to find Sam, who was sporting a tunic and red and white face paint. “Hey!” he said, breathless, as they approached.

“What the hell is this?” Dean asked, and Sam laughed.

“LARPing! Live action role-playing. It’s fun! You should try it.”

“No thanks,” Dean said looking back around at the battlefield. “What are they doing?” He gestured to the people throwing beanbags.

“They’re spells,” Sam explained, and left it at that.

“Right,” Dean said raising his eyebrows. “Where’s Charlie?”

“Oh, um, about that,” Sam laughed again, and thumbed over his shoulder at a set of wooden thrones at the edge of the field. Charlie was sitting alone in one of the chairs with a large golden crown on her head.

“What the hell,” Dean muttered, and they headed over to meet her.

“What’s up, bitches!” she called out to them as they approached.

“What’s with the crown, Charles?” Dean asked, and she jumped down from her throne.

“I’m their queen now!” she said, pointing to the crown. “How sweet is that?” Castiel laughed.

“How the hell did that happen?” Dean asked.

“You should have seen these guys, dude,” Sam explained. “It’s like they’ve never seen a girl before.”

Charlie nodded in agreement and threw her arms up in the air. “I’m a god!”

“Wow, okay,” Dean laughed. “Have fun with that, you two. Me and Cas are just gonna-“

“Ohhh, no you don’t,” Charlie grabbed his arm. “You two are staying right here and playing with us.”

Dean groaned and rolled his eyes at Castiel, but he just shrugged. “Why not? It looks like fun.” They all turned to look at the mayhem on the battlefield.

“Alright,” Dean agreed. “What do we do?”

“Well first of all,” Charlie said, adjusting her crown, “I can’t have my handmaidens looking like _that_ on the battlefield.”

“Handmaidens?” Dean asked, narrowing his eyes at his sister, but the look didn’t work.

“Yep! Handmaidens. Now come with me.”

\--

Charlie led them into a red tent and started rifling through a large wooden box filled with costumes. She held up a ruddy tunic and tossed it over her shoulder at Dean, along with a set of brown pants that she apparently judged to be the right size. “And for you, Cas,” she said, giving him a thorough once-over, “how about…” she rummaged through the box until she found a black tunic and pants to match. “You can be a shadow Orc.”

Charlie thrust the clothes at him and told him they’d be right back. She led Dean outside, presumably to another changing area. Castiel changed quickly and turned to the mirror. He looked dark. There was really no other word to describe it. A moment later, Charlie’s voice called out a tentative, “knock knock,” before she and Dean came back into the tent.

Castiel swallowed hard. Dean was… hot. _Yes, hot. That was the word._ The tunic was well-fitted and accentuated his broad shoulders. Charlie had accented his outfit with a chainmail neck guard and a brown leather belt and boots. The effect was mesmerizing, and it set Castiel’s nerdy heart aflutter. “You look great,” he managed, and Dean hung his head bashfully.

“Yeah, well. You look pretty nice yourself.”

Charlie looked smug. “Alright, handmaidens. Onward to battle.”

No one explained the rules to them. Sam and Charlie joined them in the fray, and they took a moment to glance around and get a feel for what everyone else was doing. Dean shrugged at him and held his rubber sword aloft. “You will never take me freeeedom!” he yelled in a terrible Scottish accent, and Castiel laughed heartily. He tossed a beanbag right in Dean’s face.

Dean made a face and said, “oh, it’s on!” He charged at Cas and started batting at his sides with his sword while making light saber sound effects. Castiel started blocking with his club and they began an intricate pseudo-swordfight, laughing and pausing to toss beanbags at one another every once in awhile.

Dean made a particularly dramatic noise and arched his sword high over his head, bringing it around to slice at both of Castiel’s legs just below the knee. Castiel dutifully fell to the ground, shouting, “my legs!”

“Ha!” Dean barked, waving his sword overhead. Castiel tossed another beanbag at his face, but from his position on the ground, it hit him square in the crotch. Dean went down like a sack of potatoes.

“Oh my god,” Castiel wheezed through a laugh, crawling over to Dean. “I am so sorry.” Dean was curled in a ball with his eyes squeezed shut. Castiel reached out to cup the side of his face. “Dean, are you okay? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

Dean opened his eyes and panted. “Ass. Hole.” He was smiling through the pain. Castiel held a hand over his mouth to stifle a laugh.

“I’m so sorry, really.”

Dean’s head lolled as he flopped over onto his back. “Gonna get you for that,” he panted, and he pulled Castiel down on top of him, capturing his lips in a kiss. It was dirty and sweaty and interrupted by laughing, but as far as first kisses went, Castiel thought that this one probably had to be right up there with the best of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooh yeah.
> 
> Come shout at me on [tumblr](http://glassclosetcastiel.tumblr.com)!


	18. The Spark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Choo choo... all aboard the feels train.
> 
> Warnings for drama, angst, sad feels, happy feels, and a plot twist.
> 
> Enjoy!

They were interrupted by whooping. Dean pulled his face away from Cas to discover that, in addition to Charlie and Sam, there were quite a few people that had paused in their LARPing to cheer at them. Castiel blushed and buried his face in Dean’s neck for a moment before standing and offering Dean a hand to get off the ground.

Dean put his arm around Castiel’s waist and waved everyone else off. “Alright, show’s over,” he griped, but he couldn’t keep the smile off of his face, and incidentally, neither could Cas.

\--

Several hours later, after they had returned their dirty costumes to their rightful owners, after Charlie had exchanged contact information with several of her new Moondoor worshipers, after Sam had poked his pointed ear-tips through the knit moose hat and Charlie had bought herself a delicate silver crown, they all trudged together through the exits and toward the car, happily exhausted. Dean made everyone kick the mud off of their shoes before getting in the impala.

“Well, that was-“

“Awesome,” Dean finished for Sam, and they all smiled and laughed their agreement.

“Oh look,” Charlie said, holding out her phone, my ‘Charlie, Queen of Moondoor’ twitter already has over 100 followers.” 

Dean shook his head fondly, pulling out of the Museum lot and onto the main road. Without looking, he reached out and rested a hand on Castiel’s knee. He didn’t miss the smile that broke out on the other man’s face- wide and toothy- transforming his features like the sun revealing the Grand Canyon’s depths.

\--

They arrived back at Castiel’s house shortly thereafter, and Castiel invited them all inside so he could print off the latest version of his resume and fill out the application. “Also,” Charlie said, trailing the boys into the house, “if you get an interview, they’re gonna want to see examples of your art.”

Castiel nodded, looking around the walls, taking a mental inventory of what he thought would be good enough to show his potential future employers.

“Can we see some of your work?” Charlie asked.

“Charlie,” Dean chided, but Castiel cut him off.

“No, it’s fine, Dean,” Castiel insisted. “You’re already looking at it.” He waved a hand to encompass all of the art on the walls. Dean gaped.

“Wait, you did _all of this?_ ” He asked, turning in place.

Castiel looked up, trying to gauge his reaction. “Yes. Most of it is old. My father was very fond of my work, even from an early age. My newer works are hanging in my bedroom.”

Dean moved to the wall, admiring a watercolor painting of Icarus. “These are amazing, Cas,” he breathed, and Castiel’s heart leapt.

\--

Cas led them upstairs to his room, and Dean had to pause in the doorway, because _holy shit._ It was like an art gallery in there. The back wall was concealed by floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, but apart from that and the windows, nearly every inch of available wall space was covered in art of every kind that Dean could name, and several that he couldn’t. Paintings, drawings, watercolors, sketches, illustrations, comics, cut paper designs… it was a lot to take in.

Sam wandered over to the wall of books and appeared speechless. He held his hands out, brushing the spines as if they were precious artifacts. Charlie sat down on the bed and just gazed around, looking as awestruck as Dean felt. Cas just looked curious and mildly embarrassed. Dean moved to put a hand on his back, massaging in what he hoped was a reassuring way. “You’re awesome,” he said, and Cas smiled a private little smile.

“Which ones do you think I should show them?” he asked, and Dean looked around.

“Those portraits are really cool,” he nodded to a series of charcoal works on the wall to his right. “Who are they?”

“My favorite authors and scientists,” Cas replied. “Neil Gaiman, Terry Pratchett,” he pointed them out one by one. “John Green, Nikola Tesla, Neil Degrasse Tyson, J. K. Rowling, Jane Austen.”

“You like Terry Pratchett?” Sam asked, turning in place, and Cas smiled.

“Over there, top row to the right. That’s all Discworld novels.” Sam started pawing through the volumes like a kid in a candy store, and Cas laughed.

“I’ve read the Harry Potter books,” Dean offered, realizing he’d never heard of the other people, apart from Jane Austen.

“That’s good,” Cas said, speaking genuinely. “Harry Potter is one of my favorite series.”

“OH MY GOD MINE TOO,” Charlie cried. “You’re totally a Ravenclaw, like Sam.”

“I think you’re right,” Cas admitted, watching Sam pull another book off of the shelf. “You and Dean would be in Gryffindor.”

Dean went in for a high-five with Charlie. “Hell yeah.”

“Who’s your favorite author?” Sam asked from his place at the shelves, and Cas hummed in thought.

“Well, that’s a tricky question. I think if I had to choose just one, I would say Neil Gaiman. However, Pride and Prejudice is my favorite book.” Dean filed that information away for future reference.

“Never could get into Austen,” Sam mused, and Dean rolled his eyes at his brother, the sixteen-year-old professor of All Things Literature and Philosophy.

_“Anyway,”_ Dean cut in, I think you should show ‘em those portraits, maybe take a picture of that big landscape over there because it’s colorful and it’ll show ‘em you can paint,” he waved at a scene of a sunset over copper-colored mountains, “and maybe a couple of your illustrations or comics?”

Castiel picked up a green sketchbook from his desk and started flipping through it. “This is where I sketch most of my comics-“

“Wait, go back,” Dean said, because it looked like he’d seen…

Castiel stalled, a blush forming over his cheeks. He’d seen it, too. “Go back, Cas,” Dean said, trying to show Castiel that he was interested rather than creeped out by seeing what appeared to be his own face. Cas flipped back two pages and handed the book to Dean.

“I did it after I first saw your page on POF. I couldn’t get you out of my head,” he admitted shyly, looking at the ground.

It was a perfect likeness. “You did this from memory?” Dean asked, and Cas nodded.

Charlie had gotten up to look at the picture, too. “Well, yeah, don’t you remember? He was your top viewer.”

Dean felt a surge of pride at the memory. “Oh yeeahh,” he drawled, turning to face Cas. “That’s how I found you. You were the one who viewed my page the most.”

“Surely not,” Castiel protested, but his face was taking on a whole new level of embarrassment.

“Don’t call me Shirley,” Dean joked, throwing an arm over his shoulders. “C’mon, Cas. You like my face, I get it. It’s a pretty great face. And,” he added, whispering conspiratorially, “for the record, I like your face, too.” Dean held the sketchbook back out to him. “This is really great, though. Really. I’ll be your model any time.” He winked for good measure, and was rewarded with a smile.

“Which reminds me,” he said, making grabby hands at the sketchbook again, “Bat Dean. C’mon. I wanna see.”

Cas pulled the sketchbook away and held it behind his back. “No, not until it’s finished.”

Dean groaned, but relented. “Alright, I’m holding you to that.”

\--

They stayed for dinner, which ended up being a much bigger ordeal than Dean could have anticipated. It turned out that neither Cas nor Gabe knew how to cook, and learning about their nearly empty refrigerator was possibly the saddest thing he’d heard all day. “Seriously, guys?” He asked, straightening up from his spot in front of the appliance to shout at the Novak brothers.

Gabriel shrugged. “Dad always cooked. Plus, Cassie here always sets something on fire when he tries. He’s not allowed in the kitchen.”

“That’s not entirely true,” Cas argued, turning to face Dean. “I can bake.”

Dean perked up at that.

They ended up ordering takeout from the Chinese place down the street, crowding together at the small dining room table to share tubs of beef lo mein, General Tso chicken, and ma po tofu (for Sam, _the weirdo._ ) The five of them talked and argued good-naturedly, sometimes laughing so hard that they’d spit out their food. Through it all, Dean kept catching Castiel’s eye and just sharing silent moments with him, trying to communicate through eye contact what he couldn’t say aloud. _I’m so glad I met you. I love that you get along with my family. I want to kiss you again. I want this, all the time._

Instead, he just ladled himself another heaping of fried rice, and said, “I’m teachin’ you how to cook, Cas.” He hoped he understood.

\--

Castiel remembered to print out his resume and clipped it to the application, thanking Charlie as he handed the papers over. She and Sam each gave him a bone crushing hug and complimented him on his art again.

“You’re welcome to borrow my books any time,” he told Sam. “Just let me know what you want. Maybe, if I get the job, we can do a sort of lending library thing.”

“That would be awesome,” Sam beamed. “Just like ‘Perks of Being a Wallflower.’”

“Oh my goooddd,” Dean groaned, “you guys are killin’ me with your nerdiness.”

“Says the enthusiastic LARPer,” Sam retorted, and Dean shoved him.

“Dean-o,” Gabriel held out a hand for a shake, “while my brother is way out of your league, I’m going to take pity on you and allow this to continue.” 

Dean huffed a laugh. “Awfully kind of you, Gabe. Meanwhile,” he pulled his hand out of the shake to point a stern finger in the shorter man’s face, “you keep your weird little paws off my brother, you hear me?” Castiel burned with embarrassment, but Dean was grinning when he said it.

Gabriel held up his hands in surrender. “Hey, no worries. And Sammy-” he winked at the tall boy as he walked away, “call me in 2016.” Sam’s face had turned a lovely shade of puce.

“Sorry about him,” Castiel murmured.

“Why don’t you guys go wait in the car,” Dean ordered his siblings, and Sam rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “It was really great meeting you, Cas,” he said, and grabbed the car keys.

Charlie gave Castiel one final squeeze around the middle and left with her brother. “Your siblings are wonderful,” Castiel told Dean, watching the kids through the window.

“Yeah, they’re alright,” Dean replied, checking to be sure that Gabriel had left the room before threading his arms around Castiel’s waist.

“Thank you for today,” Castiel said, fighting the urge to smile like an idiot. Dean beat him to it, anyway.

“Hey, thank _you,_ ” Dean insisted, leaning down to press a soft kiss to Castiel’s lips. It was so perfect, and so unexpected, and so absurd. Simultaneously everything Castiel had ever hoped for and everything he thought he’d never have. He pulled Dean tightly against him and tucked his head into the crook of his neck.

“Come see me again soon.”

“I will,” Dean promised, placing a kiss on the top of his head.

They held on like that for a little while, and then someone honked the horn outside, and Dean growled low in his throat and pulled away. “Damn kids,” he grumbled, and leaned in for one last kiss.

“Drive safely,” Castiel told him.

“Always do,” Dean winked, and Castiel watched him as he walked down the drive and got into his car.

\--

Dean’s heart had been hammering for hours. All day, maybe. As they drove away, the adrenaline started to fade, and he realized how exhausted he was. Sam and Charlie, the little energizer bunnies that they were, couldn’t stop yammering away about how much fun they’d had, how incredible Cas’ art was, and how he and Dean made a cute couple. He didn’t have the energy to tell them to shut up, and truth be told, _he didn’t really have any reason to argue._

_He’d kissed Cas._ He had kissed him and it had been so spontaneous. So effortless. So _right._ If you’d have asked him a moment before if he thought he’d be kissing Cas that day, he would have said no. And then it just happened. _And it was perfect._ He breathed in deeply, wondering if he could really still smell the guy’s shampoo or if it were just an awesome sense memory.

He texted Cas to let him know they’d made it back home safely and grabbed all of their gear out of the trunk before heading inside. When he got to the door, he heard his father’s voice. “-the hell’s that all over your face?” _Shit._ Sam never washed his face. Charlie was probably still wearing her crown.

Thankfully, Sammy’s quick thinking won out again. “They were doing a reenactment of the Battle of Falkirk,” Sam replied happily, and Dean held his breath, wondering if his dad would catch on to the Braveheart reference.

To his surprise and relief, their father just chuckled. “You just love history, don’t you, Sammy?” John clapped his son on the back and went to go settle into the couch. “Just like your mother,” Dean heard him murmur, and, _no,_ scratch empty refrigerators. _That_ was the saddest thing he’d heard all day. He retreated to his room and shut the door.

Thankfully, his mood was only dampened for a few minutes, because he was rewarded with a picture message from Cas a little while later. It was a drawing of the four of them in their Moondoor garb, Sam hoisting Queen Charlie on his shoulders, with he and Cas on either side fanning her. It might just have been the most awesome thing he’d ever seen.

He went in search of Charlie to ask her how to save picture messages.

\--

Gabriel, surprisingly, was not watching television. He was turned fully in his seat, staring at Castiel, who was trying very hard not to feel self-conscious as he sketched. Eventually, he couldn’t take it any more. “What, Gabe?”

His brother had that twinkle in his eyes. “I’ve never seen you smile like this before,” he remarked.

Castiel furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?”

“You’re _smiling,_ Cassie. You’re just sitting there and smiling. You usual face is kind of…” he squinted his eyes a bit and scowled in demonstration. “And even when you do smile, it’s like this tiny little thing that you can’t see without a magnifying glass.”

Castiel rolled his eyes, but didn’t let the pleased expression slip from his face.

“I’m really happy for you, Castiel. I mean it. Dean seems like a great guy. And I can tell he makes you happy. I honestly don’t think I’ve ever seen you this happy.”

Castiel honestly couldn’t remember ever _being_ this happy. 

\--

Dean had to work the next day, which was absolutely killing him. He itched to pull the phone out of his pocket every few minutes. He and Cas had only exchanged two messages that morning: a simple _morning Cas, gotta head in to work,_ and the reply, _Good morning, Dean. I hope you have a good day._

The disparity between his reality at the garage with his father and the one with Castiel in Topeka was staggering, and frankly upsetting. He used to get a thrill out of being able to be here, arms-deep in an engine with his father by his side, but as he stood there covered in sweat and motor oil, he realized he’d lost that spark a long time ago. He’d found a new spark, and it was in using emoticons in text messages and pretending to be a medieval warrior and kissing Cas.

He spent the next seven hours arguing with himself about what that meant. Cas made him stupidly happy. He wanted to be with him right that very moment, so he had no idea how he would cope with going any length of time without seeing him again. He would more than likely be spending a lot of his free time in Topeka, and that was bound to catch his father’s attention. He could hide it- pretend to have a girlfriend over there or something- but honestly, he was exhausted by the thought. And he was tired of lying to his father. Sure, the guy wasn’t winning any Father of the Year awards anytime soon, _but hey,_ Dean reasoned, _he’d accepted Sammy in face paint and elf ears. He might just be getting better._

By the end of the day, he’d made his decision. He called Cas as soon as he left the garage.

“Cas. I think I’m gonna come out to my dad tonight.”

\--

Castiel was a nervous wreck. Dean had called to tell him that he was going to come out to his father. He’d tried to offer words of encouragement and reassurance, but he really had very little experience in that department. He’d known Gabriel would accept him no matter what, and coming out to his friends had been easy. He had never had to tell anyone from whom he expected a negative reaction.

“It’ll be okay,” he’d said, and, “if it’s not, you have a place to go.” Dean had appreciated the sentiment.

Meg was over, but she was doing very little in the way of distracting him since she was flipping through his phone and laughing at the pictures he’d taken.

“God _damn,_ that boy is fine. He even looks hot in a sombrero. He should be studied.” Castiel hummed distractedly, scratching half-heartedly in his sketchbook.

“Alright,” Meg said, batting the pencil out of his hand. “Deets. Gimme the deets.”

Castiel narrowed his eyes at her incredulously. “Did you really just say ‘deets?’”

“Just give me the 411, Clarence.”

\--

Sam was, if possible, even more nervous than Dean, but Charlie seemed to be absurdly confident that everything would be alright. “Don’t even worry,” she kept saying. “It’ll be fine, I _promise._ Plus, we’ll be there to back you up 100%.”

“She’s right,” Sam shot a look at his sister, and Dean had the feeling they were doing that creepy silent communication thing again. “If shit hits the fan, we’ve got your back.”

“I appreciate that,” Dean said. He was having serious doubts about his own resolve. But then he’d think of Cas, and everything would fall back into place.

“We’ll make meatloaf and scalloped potatoes for dinner. Dad’s favorite,” Charlie suggested.

“And pie,” Sam added.

“Dad doesn’t like pie,” Dean reminded them, but Sam just smirked.

“Not for him, for you. You’re a stress eater. Whether it goes wrong or not, you’re gonna want a whole pie to yourself by the end of tonight.”

Dean had to admit he was right.

\--

The dwindling of the food in front of them was like the counting-down of a particularly unforgiving hourglass, and the pit in Dean’s stomach grew as the last remnants of their meal were scooped up onto plates and forked into waiting mouths. Dean could feel his siblings’ eyes on him, and he knew he couldn’t stall any longer. He took a long swig from his glass of water and cleared his throat. His father didn’t look up.

“Um. Dad?” He began, shooting an anxious glance around the table at his siblings. Sam gave him a nod of encouragement. Charlie gave him a tiny thumbs-up.

John looked up from his second helping of potatoes and hummed in question. “Mm?”

“I wanted to talk to you about something,” Dean began, and he drained the last of his water, suddenly feeling parched. When his father only looked on expectantly, chewing his last bits of meatloaf, Dean nodded to himself and cast his eyes down at his own plate. “Um. Look. I know you’re not going to understand this, because I haven’t... well. Uh.” He swallowed thickly. “I haven’t been totally honest with you. But I wanted you to know, because I want to be. Totally honest with you, I mean.”

“What is it?” John asked, setting his fork and knife down on his plate, and Dean heard Charlie’s nervous intake of breath beside him.

“Dad, I’m...” he trailed off again, huffing an anxious breath through his nose, but he thought about Cas as he lifted his eyes to meet his father’s, and felt his resolve solidify. “I’m... bisexual. I like girls, still, but. I like guys. Too. I like guys _and_ girls.” He let his gaze fall back to his plate.

There was an uncomfortable silence, and Dean imagined his siblings’ eyes bouncing back and forth between their father and older brother. John cleared his throat, and Dean met his gaze again. “No you’re not,” he said, and he picked his fork back up to spear a potato. Dean’s heart was hammering an unsteady, painful rhythm against his sternum as he watched his father casually squirt more ketchup onto his plate.

“Yes I am,” he managed. He wanted to bat the fork out of his father’s hand, but John beat him to the punch. He tossed his silverware down onto his plate, and Dean registered his little sister’s flinch out of the corner of his eye.

“No, boy, you’re not,” his father said, punctuating his words with a stern point of his finger across the table. “It’s that girl. That Lisa girl. She messed with your head.”

Dean felt heat flare on his face and up his arms. He clenched his fists under the table. This was so not the way he had expected the conversation to go. Shouting, maybe. Homophobic rants, sure. But this? This was crossing a line.

“What the _fuck_ do you know about Lisa?” He asked. “Like you ever paid any attention to my relationship with her. You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.” He tried to keep his voice calm, but he was shaking a bit. He felt Charlie’s hand searching for his under the table, and he grabbed her fingers and squeezed. “You don’t know anything about Lisa.”

“I know she made you leave your family, I know that much,” his father countered. “She put ideas in your head, boy. Made you think you could give up your responsibilities to your brother and sister.”

_That was it._ Dean brought his palms up and slammed them down on the table, making the dishes clatter. This time Sam jumped next to him, but he didn’t have it in him to feel guilty. “Don’t you _dare._ Don’t you _dare_ act like I’ve _ever_ cared about anything or anyone more than these kids.” He pointed at Sam when he said it. He knew that was what his father meant. Taking care of Sammy had been his job since day one of his brother’s existence. To suggest that he’d neglected his responsibilities, even for an instant, was like a slap in the face. Dean could feel his blood boiling. Before he could stop himself, the words were coming out of his mouth. “You’re the one who checked out, you asshole! You’re the one who drank yourself stupid and left us to fend for ourselves after mom died!”

John’s chair fell backwards with the force of him hastily getting to his feet. He leaned over the table to point at Dean again. “You leave Mary out of this!”

Dean stood, too, coming up to his full height. “No, I won’t, dad, because she was the only _parent_ we ever had!” Dean was shouting now. He felt a hand on his shoulder but he shrugged it off. “Who was the one raising these kids all of these years while you were off hiding in that damn garage? Huh? _Me!_ ”

“Guys,” Charlie said, her voice a mere whisper amidst the growing noise of the argument.

“That’s called being a responsible older brother, boy! How else was I supposed to pay to keep this roof over your heads? You think money just grows on goddamn trees?”

“Guys!”

“Don’t you pull that shit with me, I’ve been working a full-time job since I was fourteen years old! I _know_ about responsibility!”

“Like hell you do! You think you’re a grown man-”

“GUYS!” Charlie’s voice halted them both in their tracks. They were standing, leaning toward one another, the length of the table the only thing between them and a probable fist fight.

“ _What,_ Charlie?” Dean barked, but his sister didn’t back down. 

She looked from her brother to her father and said, calmly, “dad, I’m gay, too.”

Dean’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline and he wheeled around to face his sister. “What?! Wha- why- what… Why didn’t you tell me?” he hissed under his breath.

“Surprise,” she said, simply.

Dean couldn’t help but look at Sam, awaiting his own revelation. His eyes were round as saucers, but he just shrugged, almost apologetically. “Still straight.”

John Winchester had been stoically silent through the exchange, but everyone else seemed to suddenly remember his presence. He was sitting down again, his head in his hands. Dean, Sam and Charlie exchanged glances and small frowns. “Dad?” Charlie ventured. “Dad, I’ve thought a lot about it. I like girls.”

John sighed, long and rough. Through his hands, he said, “you’re a little young to be thinking about dating, aren’t you?” Dean had to stifle a laugh that threatened to bubble out at the absurdity of his father’s response, but he could feel the tension between them lessen the tiniest bit. 

“Actually, no, since like everyone and their brother has been dating somebody since freshman year,” Charlie argued, and Dean shook his head in wonder. The girl was ten times braver than he was, and he was proud. “I’m 16, dad. Pretty sure you and mom were younger than us when you started dating.”

John actually huffed a laugh at that. They watched as he dug the heels of his hands into his eye sockets and expelled a long breath. He finally looked up at Charlie with tired eyes. “Are you sure, sweetheart?”

Despite everything else, Dean felt a pang of gratitude for his father. It was fine if he was an asshole to Dean, as long as he was still loving and supportive of Charlie and Sam. Charlie nodded, and John bobbed his head a little in response. “Okay,” he said under his breath, and then again to himself. “Okay.” He fixed his gaze on Dean. “And you?”

Dean swallowed. “Yes, sir.”

John nodded again. “Alright. Well, I had this speech saved up for her,” he raised his chin toward Charlie, “but I s’pose I can give it to you. Any... men,” he paused, casting about for words. “I want to meet ‘em first.” Dean felt his cheeks heat, but he nodded. “I don’t like ‘em, they’re outta here. They hurt you in any way, they answer to me. You understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Dean repeated, thinking of Cas, but he didn’t mention him. That was a conversation for another time.

“And you two,” John pointed first at Sam and then at Charlie, “no girls until you’re 18.”

“Dad!” Sam protested. Dean knew that Charlie often teased Sam about this blonde girl in their class that he liked but had never had the guts to talk to.

“End of discussion. When you’re old enough, you can go on dates.”

Dean was thankful that Sam let it drop without pointing out that Dean had been going on dates since he was 15. As grateful as he was that the conversation had taken a more positive turn, he still didn’t want the focus back on himself.

They began to clear the table and put the food away. Dean kept his head down while noting his father’s presence in his periphery. That hadn’t gone exactly to plan, but at least no one got hurt. Mentally or physically. _Thank god Charlie stepped in when she did,_ he thought. He decided he’d confront her as soon as he was done with the dishes.

\--

“Why didn’t you tell me, Charles?” Dean mumbled around a mouthful of pie. They were all crowded in his bedroom again, Charlie on the edge of his bed and kicking her feet. She shrugged, avoiding his gaze.

“I was going to tell you, I just… you know.” She flapped her hand around, “You had your own… gay… thing to worry about. You didn’t need _my_ gay thing on top of that.”

“Did you know about this?” Dean rounded on Sam, who did his best to look sheepish.

“We may or may not have been fighting over who gets to ask Jessica Moore to homecoming.”

“I don’t even like her, I was just doing that so you’d ask her out,” Charlie teased, and Sam made a mock-horrified face at her.

“Jerk.”

“Bitch,” she replied, smirking.

Dean groaned at his siblings. “I can’t believe you two kept this from me. I told _you_ I liked dudes!”

“Technically, you didn’t,” Sam pointed out, and Dean wanted to toss a pillow at his face, but he didn’t, because he was right.

“I would’ve told you eventually,” he grumbled.

“It doesn’t matter,” Charlie sighed, flopping onto her back on the bed. “I’m gay, you’re bi, Sammy’s straight but we love him anyway. We’re a big happy homo-tastic family.”

Dean shook his head at his sister, but there was no malice in it. “I wish you’d told me sooner, but I appreciate what you did back there. You were planning on doing that, weren’t you? If shit went down?”

“Yep,” she turned her face to look at him, and they shared a heartfelt smile.

“Well… thanks,” he said, and he hoped she knew how much he meant it.

\--

Dean had squeezed his siblings tightly and shooed them out the door so he could think. He’d decided not to talk to Cas about it until he’d had time to process everything. Instead, he got to work making a handmade birthday card for him. It was a habit he’d gotten into out of necessity, much like learning to sew. It was a mindless activity, allowing him to reevaluate everything that had happened at dinner.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by a sharp knock on the door. “Dean? Talk to you for a minute?” his father’s voice came through the door, and Dean tensed, stuffing the card under a book.

“Yeah, gimme a sec.” He shoved the markers back into the drawer in his desk and moved to open the door. His father stepped just inside and shut the door. He turned to face Dean, and his expression was strained. Dean crossed his arms and remained standing a safe distance away.

“Son,” John began, and looked up to meet his eyes. “I know...” he trailed off, looking around the room as if trying to find the thread of his thoughts, or the courage to speak them. He gulped heavily and spoke, his voice strained. “Your mother’s death was hard on us. All of us. I know I took it a little harder than I should have.” 

Dean had never seen his dad like this. He’d been emotional after his mom’s death, sure, but this was different. He was _apologetic._ Dean felt tensed to run away and hide. Sharing feelings had never been his strong suit, and it was a trait he’d picked up from his father. Seeing him this emotional was very disorienting. Still, he listened.

“I couldn’t... I was in a bad state, son. I know that now. And I appreciate what you did for me. You and Bobby and Ellen and everybody.” He reached out to grasp Dean’s shoulder. “I appreciate what you did for those kids. You stepped up to the plate when I couldn’t. It’s… hard for me to admit those things, son. Hard for me to come to terms with what I did. What I didn’t do.” He shook his head, eyes far away in thought. “I’m trying to be a better man. It's just..." he cleared his throat, "it's hard, son. Hard to be the man Mary wanted me to be when she's not around to see it. But she'd still want me to be that man for my kids."

Dean didn't know what to say to that, so he remained silent, willing his dad to continue. "I'm sorry about what I said. About you. You’ve always done what I asked and you were one hell of a good kid.” John turned to fully face Dean, clasping both of his shoulders. Dean could feel the sting behind his eyes, threatening to well over into tears. He blinked a few times to keep them back.

“You’ve become one hell of a good man, Dean. I want you to know that I’m proud of you.”

He’d never heard those words from his father before, and they were the ones he’d been waiting to hear his whole life. That was all it took. The tears started falling. Dean turned his head so his father couldn’t see, and thankfully, John didn’t comment.

“I am, son. I’m proud of you. You were a better father to those kids than I’ve been in a long time. I thank you for that.”

Dean just nodded a little, still turned away.

“And what you said, before, about... you know,” his dad trailed off, and Dean silently prayed for the conversation to be over before it could get awkward. “You just caught me off guard, son. I mean, you _love_ women. Always have. Hell, we got kicked out of a bus one time ‘cause you were grabbin’ this woman’s ass. Couldn’ta been more than five or six years old.”

“I still like women, dad,” Dean protested, but his dad just waved him off.

“I get it. It’s a little hard to swallow, but I think I get it. Just be careful, alright? Don’t do anything stupid.”

Dean snorted and wiped his eyes. The tears had stopped flowing and he was grateful for it. “Yes, sir.”

John clapped him on the shoulder again. “Alright.” He cast about for a moment, looking unsure. “You keep an eye on Charlie, alright? Make sure she’s okay.”

“Yeah, dad. I’ll do that.”

They didn’t hug or anything, but they shared a nod and a glance that meant just about the same thing to Dean. When his father left, he took a moment to sit on his bed and process. Afte a while, he scrubbed a hand over his face, breathed a long, slow exhale, and pulled his phone out to call Cas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aghhh, the feeeeels. You should know that you can't have two back-to-back flufftacular chapters without there being consequences!
> 
> John Winchester is kind of an a-hole, but as a lot of you have pointed out, he's not all bad. I thank you for your patience with this part. I hope the angsty sadness didn't kill the vibe.
> 
> As always, I urge you to come say hey to me on [tumblr](http://glassclosetcastiel.tumblr.com). But like, I really mean it. It makes my day hearing from you guys, even if you've come to yell at me.


	19. All Was Well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've almost reached the end, everybody. Just this chapter and the epilogue left. I thank each and every one of you for your patience, your continued interest, and your love.
> 
> (I'm sorry about the chapter title. I'm giving myself the feels with it.)

“He kissed me,” Castiel said under his breath, unable to stop the upward twitch of his lips at the memory.

“Yasssss,” Meg cried, smacking her friend on the arm. “How did it happen? Was there tongue?” Her eyes went wide. “WAS THERE TONGUE?”

Castiel sighed. “There was no tongue. You are _far_ too invested in living vicariously through gay relationships.”

“No such thing,” she argued. “And stop deflecting.”

He fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. “Well, we were live-action role playing-“

“Sounds kinky.”

“Oh my god, be serious for once,” Castiel groaned. “I’m trying to tell you the story of my first kiss and you’re perverting everything, as per usual.”

“Technically it wasn’t your first kiss, if you count that one time-“ she began, but Castiel gave her a look.

Meg schooled her face into a detached, professional expression and clasped her hands on her lap. “I’m sorry, I’m listening. Please continue.”

“As I said, we were LARPing, so we were having a sword fight, and… casting spells by throwing beanbags at one another…”

Meg let out a cough that sounded suspiciously like “ _nerd_ ,” pounding her chest apologetically before returning her hands to her lap and nodding for Castiel to continue.

“…and I accidentally hit him in the balls. And then he kissed me.”

Meg raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

“You’re allowed to speak now,” Castiel said, and she dropped her hands to the bed and sighed like she’d been holding in a breath.

“Okay first of all you’re the nerdiest nerd who ever did nerd,” she rushed, “and secondly, that sounds like some serious kinky 50 Shades of Grey shit, like seriously, what kind of guy _rewards you with a kiss_ for popping him in the junk?”

Castiel rolled his eyes, grabbing his phone off of the bed between them when it vibrated. “This is why I never tell you anything. And why you aren’t allowed to meet Dean yet.”

“Oh, come on, babe,” she cooed, “I was just kidding.”

“Hang on,” Castiel held out a hand, “I got an email from the school.” Meg craned her head to look over his shoulder at the phone.

“Do you _ever_ read your emails?” She asked, nodding at the long list of unread messages in his inbox, and Castiel paused, biting his lip.

“Um.” He eyed the messages. “They’re all from POF. I haven’t even logged in since I first started talking to Dean. Well, apart from the other day when I was showing Gabriel, but even then I was only on it to look at Dean’s profile.”

Meg was grinning at him wryly. “What,” he asked, figuring he already knew what she’d say.

“Nothin’,” she replied, innocently, “I just feel like a proud mother. My little gayby is all grown up, falling head over heels for real boys instead of just going to see The Hobbit thirteen times in a row to ‘not fawn over Lee Pace.’”

“Will you _ever_ let that go?” Castiel asked, thumbing back to the top of his inbox and clicking on the most recent email.

**From:** K.Powell@usd497.edu  
 **Sent:** Monday, September 15 6:07 PM  
 **To:** castilel_illustrates@gmail.com  
 **Subject:** RE: Art Teacher Position

_Mr. Novak,_  
 _I’ve reviewed your application and résumé and am interested speaking with you further about the position. Would you be available for an interview sometime this week? Please let me know soon. You can also call me on my work line between 7:30 and 4:30._  
 _I look forward to your reply,_  
 _Kurt Powell_

“I have an interview,” Castiel breathed, disbelieving, because he’d only had a handful of interviews in the two years since graduation, and he’d never gotten one so soon after applying. His first instinct was to call Dean to give him and Charlie and Sam the good news, but then he remembered was going on at the Winchester house. He settled for sending a reply email, letting the director know that he would be available any time in the next week.

He allowed Meg to distract him for the next few hours while he waited to hear from Dean. And if he checked Charlie and Sam’s facebook pages a few times, just to see if they’d said anything about Dean or their father or both, no one would have to know.

\--

It was nearly 10:00 when Dean finally called. “Cas,” he breathed shakily into the phone, and Castiel felt his heart clench.

“Dean. Is everything alright?”

“Yeah,” Dean let out a watery laugh. “Yeah, everything’s good. I, uh,” he paused, letting out a long breath. “I told him. We got into a fight.”

“Oh no,” Castiel held a hand to his mouth. “What happened?”

“Charlie saved me, dude. The kid’s a badass. I swear to god, I was five seconds away from beating the shit out of him, the stuff he was saying… anyway. Charlie jumped in the middle and _outed herself to dad._ ”

“She-“ Castiel began.

“Yeah, total shock to me, which is a whole other story. But yeah. She told dad she’s a lesbian and it totally diffused the situation. And I think it helped him think about what he was saying.”

“Wow. You had no idea?”

“No, the little shit kept totally silent when I came out to her. Sam knew, of course. Those two, I swear.”

“So, is everything okay now?” Castiel asked, still feeling sympathy nerves, but Dean laughed again.

“Yeah, um. Dad just came in here a few minutes ago, started apologizing for everything. I mean _everything._ For checking out after mom’s death, the drinking, being a shitty father, not being supportive…” he trailed off, swallowing. “Told me he was proud of me.” Dean’s voice broke on that last part, and Castiel ached for him.

“That’s amazing, Dean,” he said.

“Yeah,” Dean agreed. “Never thought I’d see the day. Anyway, he doesn’t quite get the ‘bi’ thing, but he said he’d try to understand.”

“That’s a start,” Castiel offered, and Dean agreed.

“Oh, and uh. He said, quote, _any men come around, I want to meet ‘em first, and if they hurt you they answer to me,_ unquote. So you better watch your back, Cas.”

Castiel laughed at that. “I’ll do my best to defend your honor at every turn,” he joked. They were both silent for a moment. “I’m happy for you, Dean. How do you feel?”

Dean sighed in thought. “Good, I think. He’s still an asshole, but at least now he knows it. And he was nice to Charlie when she told him, so that’s a plus. I feel good. I’m glad I told him. Glad I don’t have to hide… us.”

Castiel hummed in agreement, content for right now that there was an _us,_ however mysterious the term was. Thankfully, Dean seemed to have the same thought.

“What is this, Cas? I mean, what… what are we?”

Castiel thought about it for only a moment, before replying, “I would love it if I could call you my boyfriend.”

Dean exhaled heavily. “Awesome. That’s, I mean. I want that, too.” He sounded nervous, and Castiel couldn’t help but smile, feeling the blush creep across his cheeks.

He basked in the happiness that their mutual feelings brought for a moment, before cheekily asking, "so, do you want to know who your _boyfriend_ heard from tonight?"

Dean laughed. "Who?"

"Mr. Powell. I have an interview tomorrow at 9:30 a.m."

"Hell yes," Dean said. "You're gonna knock 'em dead. Show them the portraits, seriously."

Castiel smiled again and sighed contentedly. "I will. Thank you, Dean."

"Don't thank me, it's all you. You're amazing." And then, to himself, "I'm gonna be dating a hot teacher. It's like all of my high school fantasies come to life."

Castiel wanted to roll his eyes, but his face had broken out into a wide, toothy grin of its own volition. “I guess I can delete my POF profile, now,” he pointed out. “It’s been gathering dust all week.”

Dean was silent for a moment before admitting, “I asked Charlie how to delete it yesterday.”

They shared a comfortable, wondering silence, during which Castiel decided that he would have to call Meg and thank her for being annoying and forcing him into the world of online dating. It had really paid off, after all.

\--

Castiel never bothered to check the mail. Not even on days like September 18th, which happened to be his birthday. So he didn’t know he’d received a letter until Gabriel marched into the house with the thin white envelope, shaking it at Castiel with glee. “Yay, more birthday stuff!”

Gabe had woken him up that morning to a fanfare of obnoxious honking from a blowout noisemaker, but not before using Castiel’s ability to sleep like the dead against him and decorating his bedroom with bright pink streamers, cut-outs of unicorns and rainbows, and printed pictures of naked male models with Dean’s face taped on. He’d even taken pictures of the mess with Castiel asleep in the center of it all, unaware. Castiel was not amused, feigning a sour mood until he read his daily good morning text from Dean. _Happy birthday, Cas. You should call your boyfriend later, I hear he misses your face._

Castiel took the letter from his brother and smiled when he read the name on the return side. _Sir Dean Winchester, Honorable Handmaiden, Esq._ He opened it up and pulled out a long, skinny card made from a folded piece of paper. On the front, in colorful block letters, Dean had written 

**HAPPY  
** **BIRTH  
 **DAY CA  
 **STIEL******

Castiel smiled fondly and opened the card.

_Cas,_  
 _(Sorry about the front, I ran out of space. Probably should have just written Happy B-day Cas, now I think about it. Anyway.) I know we met not that long ago, but I really feel like I’ve known you my whole life. Getting to know you has been the highlight of my year, honest to god. I feel so incredibly lucky to be able to call someone as talented and kind and smart (and hot) as you my boyfriend. I hope that your 22nd year is full of awesome nerdy things like Larping and tea and books and me. Heh, I rhymed. Happy birthday Cas.  
 _Dean_ _

Castiel knew it was much too soon to think of love, but he didn’t doubt that this was what it must feel like to start falling.

\--

Dean wiped his hands on an old rag and fished the phone out of his pocket. “Hey, Cas,” he answered with a grin, weaving his way out of the garage and into the sunshine. “You finally find my card?”

“I did,” Cas replied, a smile in his voice. “Thank you, Dean. That was incredibly thoughtful.”

Dean scoffed. “Just a dumb handmade card, Cas. No biggie.” But he knew it had meant more, and he knew that Cas knew what it meant. He once again thanked his lucky stars that he’d somehow found a man who could recognize when he was being sincere and sappy without calling him out on it. It was a small miracle.

“Besides,” he continued. “I have _actual_ presents for you tonight.”

“I told you not to get me anything,” Cas argued, but Dean waved him off, even though he couldn’t see it. He leaned against the side of the building and let his face settle into the wide smile that seemed to be his default expression when he spoke to Cas.

“Just shut up and let me give you presents.” 

His boyfriend laughed softly through the phone. “Okay. I concede.”

“Good. I’ll see you in a couple hours.”

They disconnected and Dean headed back inside, only to be intercepted by his father.

“That your boyfriend?” John asked, leaning against the back of an old rusted-out pickup, arms crossed against his chest.

Dean looked at him head-on and smirked, feeling brave. “Yes sir.”

John surprised him again by saying, “invite him over for dinner sometime. I wanna meet him.” He walked away and left Dean standing there with his mouth hanging open.

\--

Castiel received the phone call just a few minutes before Dean was supposed to come over, so he waited until he heard the familiar rumble of the Impala engine growling up the driveway, waited to hear the creak of the door opening and closing, waited to hear boots climbing the porch steps before opening the door and leaning into Dean, grabbing his face in both hands and kissing him, slow and sweet.

Dean smiled into his mouth. “Good to see you too, Cas,” he said, green eyes sparkling. Castiel pulled away enough to look at him, taking a moment to enjoy his boyfriend’s handsome face. Dean smirked at his scrutiny. “Happy birthday.”

Castiel couldn’t hold it in any longer. “I got the job,” he breathed, breaking into an even bigger smile that Dean soon matched.

“Hell yes you did,” he whooped, pulling Castiel in for a tight hug. “Told you, didn’t I? You were so worried, but you nailed that interview. When’re you gonna believe how awesome you are?” Castiel just laughed disbelievingly into his shoulder.

“Pretty nice birthday present, huh?” Dean ruffled his hair.

Castiel pulled away again, leading Dean into the house. “Best birthday present ever,” he agreed.

“Welll,” Dean drawled, “I guess you don’t need these, then,” he held up a Tupperware container and a package wrapped in newspaper.

Castiel swiped at them and Dean held them above his head, using the two-inch height difference to his advantage. “Come on,” Castiel pled. “I’m sure your presents will be even better than a salary and health benefits.”

Dean scoffed, but dutifully held out the Tupperware. Castiel opened it and found a dozen chocolate chip cookies. He smiled. “Did you make these?”

“Slaved away on ‘em,” Dean replied with a wink, and Castiel smirked, snagging one from the batch. “Open that,” Dean urged, nodding at the newspaper-wrapped package.

Castiel stuck the cookie in his mouth and set the tupperware down on the counter so he could rip open the present. When he saw what it was, he almost spit the cookie out of his mouth in laughter. He quickly swallowed the mouthful and held the DVD up to Dean in question. “Croctopus vs. Cobrapotamus?”

“Get it?” Dean asked, gesturing to the cookies. “Your tagline on POF. ‘Let’s watch a bad movie and eat cookies.’”

Castiel suddenly felt an overwhelming wave of affection surge over him. Instead of telling Dean, he pulled him down for another kiss, weaving his arms behind his back and holding him close.

Later, they ended up eating all of the cookies, but paid very little attention to the movie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not a smut writer, mostly because I'm _so_ not suave and I feel like me writing it would be ridiculous. As such, I purposely left this up for interpretation, so let your imagination supply you with what it will.
> 
> Look for the last chapter on Valentine's Day!
> 
> I love you all.
> 
> Oh and come say hey to me on [tumblr](http://glassclosetcastiel.tumblr.com).


	20. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are at the end. I can't express to you how much I've appreciated the amazing love I've gotten from you all on this piece. I never thought I would complete a 50k+ word story, and you'd better believe that it was due to the encouragement of my readers that I kept on keepin' on.
> 
> I would like to give a huge thanks to Becca ([Alternaurora](http://archiveofourown.org/users/alternaurora/pseuds/alternaurora)) for her beta-ing, reviewing, critiquing, for tossing around ideas with me and for just kind of typing in all caps back and forth with me whenever anything exciting happened.
> 
> I would also like to thank each and every one of you who left comments and kudos, and the people who _actually did_ come say hey to me on tumblr (you can still find me [here](http://glassclosetcastiel.tumblr.com), I'm serious.)
> 
> Lastly, I know this ending leaves a lot of unanswered questions. I started making a list of time stamps I'd like to do, but it ended up being a mile long. Sooo, I might just end up writing a sequel. It depends on what you guys would like. No matter what, I will definitely write about Dean telling Benny, Cas having dinner at the Winchesters', Meg and Dean meeting, and Cas and the kids in the classroom. I'll also probably give Charlie a girlfriend, because that would make me happy. Let me know in the comments what you'd like to see.
> 
> Oh, one last thing. Make sure to check out the end notes on this one. They're special this time around. <3
> 
> Enjoy, friends.

Five months later  
**Valentine's Day, 2015**

Valentine's Day was on a Saturday, so Friday at the high school was a whirlwind of pink hearts and flowers and awkward teenage angst. Castiel's usually bright and colorful classroom had no need for decorations. He hated the color pink, and cherubs just _creeped him the heck out._

So Castiel had been surprised, in his little bubble of non-Valentine's Day sanity, when a group of show choir students showed up during first period to serenade him with a singing Valentine. He was even more surprised to find another group coming to woo him with a different song for the next five periods after that. He suspected that only one or two Valentines had been commissioned by Dean, and the rest had probably been all Sam and Charlie's doing. To his horror, he found a video documenting the whole experience circulating amongst his students on facebook later that evening.

Castiel awoke on Valentine's Day to a loud knock on the door, and frowned, burrowing his face into… pillows. _Just pillows._ He blinked open one eye and peered around. The bed was empty. He buried his head back into his own pillow and grumbled, pulling the blanket up to his shoulders.

"Morning, grumpy," Dean said from the door.

"Nng," Castiel grunted in reply.

"You had a delivery," Dean said in a sing-song voice, and Cas yawned.

The blanket was pulled off of him slowly, and he groaned again, curling into a tight little ball. Dean tried to pull him up and out of bed, but Castiel just ended up pulling Dean down onto the bed and curling around him. That stopped his infuriating wakey-wakey routine for a minute. Cas absorbed his warmth while he could.

"Something came in the mail for you," Dean whispered, turning his head to place a kiss into Castiel's hair.

"What is it?"

"Guess you're just gonna have to get out of bed and see," Dean replied, and pulled himself out of Castiel's embrace. He laughed as Cas huffed in annoyance, eventually pulling himself to standing and stretching his arms over his head. He followed Dean's retreating frame into the living room. _His living room._

He'd saved enough money on his modest teaching salary to afford a one-bedroom apartment in Lawrence, just down the street from the high school. Dean hadn't officially moved in yet, but he had his own drawer full of clothes in the bedroom, and there were two toothbrushes in the bathroom, so it was close enough.

Dean led him into the kitchen, where a bouquet of white flowers sat on the table. Castiel rubbed his eyes as he approached, realizing that they weren't just white flowers. They were intricately folded paper flowers. He plucked one from the bouquet and examined it. They were formed from the pages of a book.

"Pride and Prejudice," Dean clarified, standing off to the side, looking unsure. Castiel caught a few familiar lines on the petals.

"You made these?" he asked, and Dean nodded. "I would be mad that you destroyed a book if they weren't so beautiful," Castiel teased, and Dean smiled. He replaced the flower in the bouquet and went to embrace his boyfriend.

"Thought you might say that," Dean replied, placing gentle kisses along his jaw and up to his lips. "Happy Valentine's Day."

"I thought we said no real gifts," Castiel reminded him, because they had decided that Valentine's Day was dumb and they would watch a bad movie and eat pie, for old time's sake.

"Eh, this isn't a real gift," Dean said, as if it hadn't taken hours to cut and fold the paper flowers. "Besides, I'm only human." He went in for another kiss. "And when humans want something really- really- badly," he punctuated each word with a kiss, "we lie."

Castiel hummed into his mouth, smiling. "Well, I guess we want the same thing, then, because I have a gift for you, too."

Dean pulled back, smiling coyly. "Oh, yeah?" Cas nodded and sank into Dean's embrace.

The Bat Dean comic was completed, sitting neatly at the top of the closet, wrapped in the funny papers from the Sunday newspaper. Castiel couldn't wait to see Dean's face when he read it. He'd worked in a new arch-nemesis- the Avenging Angel- a blue eyed loner who ended up falling for the hero in the end. The last panel was cheesy, but appropriate. _"He had truly found his partner in crime."_

Tucked neatly into the space between the last two pages, Castiel had folded a letter. He hoped it would convey everything he couldn't verbally express. After all, they had fallen in love in print and type. It seemed only fitting.

_Dean,_

_I know that Valentine's Day is an annoying social construct, conspired against the masses by the greeting card and chocolate companies, but I feel as if the symbolic value of the holiday is as good an excuse as any to express my true romantic sentiment._

_I wish that you had known me before, if even from a distance, just so that you would know how much of an impact you have had on my life. It's as if I lived all of my years in a plain white room, which was nice and sufficient, simply because I never knew anything else was possible. And even though there was a window in the room, affording me a view of the outside world, it was only that: a view- like a television screen- showing me the world that other people experienced, that I would never have._

_When I met you, it was as if you'd held the key I hadn't even known I was missing, and I suddenly discovered the edges to the locked door. You helped me to discover the world outside. In short, you make me_ feel. _I never fully felt things before I met you._

_I suppose what I'm getting at is that you're the other half to my whole. Not only the love of my life, but also my best friend, my rock, my #1 fan, and yes, my partner in crime. I don't know who I would be today if not for you. I feel so incredibly lucky to be able to call you mine._

_Happy Valentine's Day, Dean. Here's to many, many more._

_I love you to the stars and back._

_Cas_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now I can finally tell you all what I've been dying to tell you from the beginning.
> 
> I wanted to finish this story on Valentine's Day, because I saw a tumblr prompt that read, "For Valentine's Day, write an AU of your OTP meeting the way you met your significant other."
> 
> This is the exact story of how I met my girlfriend. Almost all elements from this story (especially the little details) are taken from real life. From the online dating profiles (my tagline really was "let's watch a bad movie and eat cookies," which she later told me is what caught her eye in the first place, because it made her laugh,) to me being her "top viewer" (embarrassing,) to staying up all night chatting that first night and smiling so much my cheeks ached. I came out to my parents a week after meeting her. Her very religious family was surprisingly supportive and welcoming of our relationship. Our first date was at a museum, and while there was no LARPing, I did get her to dress up as an elf with me to go to a renaissance festival once, and though she'd probably never admit it, she enjoyed it. A few weeks after meeting her, I got a job as a graphic designer at a college, and shortly thereafter we started dating "officially."
> 
> We're still together three and a half years later.


	21. Four Years Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very important timestamp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I promised lots of in-story timestamps, but this one needed to be written. It is 100% fluffy fluff. I can't help it. 
> 
> Enjoy.

“Okay, run this by me one more time? What the hell is this for?”

Dean was holding seven packages of crappy dollar store water balloons in his arms, still managing to look menacing.

Castiel leaned forward onto his tiptoes and pecked him on the cheek before continuing on down the aisle toward the craft supplies. “It’s just a thing for Meg’s website,” he explained for what felt like the tenth time. “She’s getting a lot of high-end clients who want unusual photography. She needs some guinea pigs.”

Dean slugged along behind Castiel, shuffling the packages in his arms to get a better grip. “So why do we need to get covered in paint to do this?”

“I don’t know, exactly,” Castiel said. He picked out three large bottles of washable tempera paint in yellow, blue, and pink. “She just wanted to try something new. I told her we’d love to do it. I thought you’d be excited.”

“I am,” Dean said. “It sounds like a fuckin’ blast, don’t get me wrong. I was just wondering.”

Castiel searched his face, and, satisfied with his honesty, led the way to the apparel section. He chose a small white female tee, a medium white men’s tee for himself, and a package of large white shirts for Dean and for Sam, who was visiting home on summer break from college and had somehow grown a few more inches since leaving for his sophomore year.

Dean picked out a hideous plaid trucker cap to wear for the occasion, and even though Cas rolled his eyes at his ridiculous boyfriend as he tried the thing on and waggled his eyebrows suggestively, he kind of secretly thought that Dean was adorable, ugly hat or no.

They paid a whopping $18 for the lot and headed home to their cozy townhouse.

It had taken some time for Dean to move in, feeling like he needed to stay in Lawrence for his siblings’ sake. After two years of driving back and forth, he was living mostly out of the Impala and wasting a ton of money on gas. When Sam and Charlie graduated and went off to college, John decided it was time to move on and sell the house. There were too many rooms and too many old ghosts there. Dean stuck around long enough to help get the place sold and find his dad a nice little two bedroom apartment. Then he moved in with Cas.

Castiel had enjoyed teaching at the high school, but knew it wasn’t where he wanted to end up. So after his third year of teaching, he bid goodbye to Lawrence High and set his sights on KU. Before long, he was the University’s chief graphic designer, just one level below the PR director. He had a great salary, a retirement plan, and excellent benefits. 

They decided to move mostly because the apartment had always felt like _Castiel’s place,_ not _their place._ Together, they created a space all their own in the new little townhouse. They’d covered the walls in Dean’s band posters and Castiel’s art. Dean had begun building custom furniture out of salvage and scrap materials from the auto shop, and their home was full of his unique pieces. It was rustic and haphazard and eccentric, and neither of them would have had it any other way.

While Dean stayed downstairs and started dinner, Castiel headed up to their bedroom and began sorting through the supplies they’d bought and marking things off of his mental checklist. Tomorrow was going to be crazy. He hoped it would all work out as planned.

\--

They met Sam and Charlie for lunch at a Mexican restaurant in town. Charlie had cut her hair short, and it bobbed around her chin as she laughed. Sam had filled out a lot, and his hair was nearly as long as his sister’s. Castiel watched them as they interacted with Dean. He always felt like his heart was full to bursting knowing that he had been welcomed into this family with open arms. He felt it tenfold in that moment.

His phone buzzed, and he took it out of his pocket to check. It was a text from Meg. _Looks like it’s about to storm,_ it said. Castiel frowned. 

“What’s wrong, babe?” Dean asked.

“Nothing, just looks like it’s going to rain.”

“It doesn’t look too bad,” Sam said, leaning over to look out the window at the grey clouds. At least the sky wasn’t turning green. Yet.

They hurried to pay the check and piled into the Impala. Castiel wouldn’t let Dean pull away, however, until he’d asked Charlie for the third time if she had remembered to bring the other cameras, and were sure that she hadn't left them in her car.

Meg was already in the backyard with Gabe when they arrived at Castiel’s old house. They’d set her Canon 7D on a heavy duty tripod and had rigged a waterproof covering for it out of plastic bags and saran wrap. When Castiel heaved a deep sigh, watching the gathering storm clouds, Meg caught his eye and gave him a reassuring thumbs-up. 

Benny arrived about fifteen minutes later, and he and Dean exchanged slaps on the back. Castiel gave him a crash course on the waterproof camera, instructing him to get right in the midst of the action and not to worry about it getting dirty. The case would protect it.

The seven of them made assembly lines at the two available water spigots, and together they pumped the balloons full of different colored paints and water. They filled the waiting plastic storage tub to the brim with them just as it began to rain. Castiel distributed the white T-shirts to Dean and Sam and Charlie, pulling the medium-sized one over his own head. In minutes, they were nearly soaked-through. Charlie thanked Cas for his suggestion that she wear a sports bra under her white shirt.

“Are we ready?” Cas asked. He checked that the waterproof camera was on video mode as Charlie did the same with her camera, being operated on a second tripod by Gabe. Meg readied her own camera.

She directed Sam, Charlie, and Benny to stand back with the plastic tub of balloons, and had Dean and Cas grab two balloons each. “Okay, whenever you’re ready,” she said, and all three cameras clicked on.

Dean and Cas nodded at one another and walked toward Meg, coming to a stop just in front of the camera. They sized each other up, grinning mischievously, before Cas made the first move and smashed both balloons on Dean’s chest. He barely had time to register the twin green and yellow splashes before his head was being doused in blue paint. Then they were running.

Dean beat him back to the tub, where Sam and Charlie were already pelting each other. Cas spiked an orange balloon right at Dean's stomach, but it bounced off and splashed on the grass instead. Dean smirked and chased him down, landing a direct hit to his back. Yellow paint enveloped Castiel from behind. He spared a moment to toss his glasses to the safety of the grass under Gabriel's tripod. 

Sam and Charlie decided to gang up on Dean, so Castiel grabbed a balloon in each hand and joined them in their assault. Dean hunched over, covering his head with his arms as the three of them hit him repeatedly with splashes of color. “It is _on_!” Dean shouted, springing to his feet and running for the tub with his hands covering his face. His hat was dripping with bright pink paint.

Cas chased him down and was rewarded with a bright orange paint splatter to the face. He had to stop to pull his shirt up and wipe his eyes, thankful that he’d taken his glasses off. Sam and Charlie had reached the tub and seemed to be making a game out of smashing balloons over one another’s heads like they were cracking eggs. Castiel and Dean both paused to watch and laugh as Charlie had to jump a foot in the air to reach the top of her brother’s head.

They met each other’s eyes over the top of the plastic tub and smiled. Dean’s skin and hair were a multitude of colors, his soaked t-shirt clinging to his skin. He always looked so beautiful, but he was getting even more gorgeous with age. Castiel’s breath hitched a bit, so he shook his head and sprinted forward. Dean reacted in kind.

Grabbing two balloons in each hand, they began lobbing balloons right at each other at point-blank range. The two of them emptied the tub of balloons in no time and paused, breathing heavily, with the last two balloons in hand. “What’re you gonna do, Cas?” Dean taunted, tossing his balloon a foot or so in the air and catching it again with a gently cupped hand.

Cas took a few steps back, and Dean mirrored his action. He could sense Benny just over his right shoulder, making sure to catch every move with the camera. He smiled at Dean and blew an air kiss, and then faked a throw and ducked, watching as Dean lobbed the final balloon right over his head. Without hesitation, he stood back up and threw his balloon hard in Dean’s direction. By some cruel twist of fate, it hit him right in the balls. He doubled over a sound like a wounded bird, and crumpled to the ground.

There was an eruption of laughter from all around them. Cas just said, “crap.”

He ran to Dean and knelt over him, cupping his face in his hand. “Sorry, baby,” Castiel said. He tried not to smile and failed.

Dean had his eyes closed, but he managed to laugh through his pained breaths. “Just like… old… times,” he wheezed. He cracked one eye open, and they laughed. Cas leaned in to peck him on the lips.

“There’s one more shot I want to get, so you’d better man up, you big baby,” Meg called across the yard.

Cas took both of Dean’s hands to haul him upright, and together they walked forward to stand in front of Meg’s camera. Sam, Charlie and Benny followed them, with Benny coming to rest once again behind Castiel, his camera aimed on Dean. Cas looked to Gabe for confirmation that his camera was still rolling.

He took the hem of his soggy, mostly yellow t-shirt and stood on his tip-toes to wipe Dean’s mouth with it. He kissed Dean’s clean lips. Then he wiped his left hand.

“What’re you doing?” Dean asked.

Castiel pulled a folded plastic sandwich bag out of his pocket and began to unroll it.

“Cas, what’re you doing?” Dean asked again.

Cas opened the bag and pulled out one of the silver rings inside. He held it up so Dean could see. The color and sound of the rest of the world had seemed to fade away. Cas could only see rather than hear Dean saying, “no no no no no.”

Cas just shook his head yes and smiled. Dean had his hands on his head. He was in shock.

“Dean,” Cas said. “Will you marry me?”

Dean said nothing for a moment, but suddenly the world had reappeared around them. People were cheering and whistling. Dean said, “are you serious?”

Cas just nodded, his face splitting wide into a grin that he knew he’d be embarrassed to look at in the pictures later. Right then, though, he didn’t care.

“Are you kidding me?” Dean asked, holding his hands out to the sides, clearly trying to communicate his answer with body language alone. His stance said, _what are you, crazy?_ His resounding, hearty “YES!” was hardly necessary, but it made Cas’ heart swell just the same.

They were kissing then, the ring forgotten in Castiel’s fist. The stupid ugly trucker hat was in the way, though, so Cas leaned back briefly to whack it off of Dean’s head. Then he fell back into Dean. They smiled into each other’s mouths, not caring that their families were watching.

“Do you mean it?” Dean asked, his lips still ghosting over Cas’.

“Absolutely,” Castiel said.

“Well then, get on one knee!” Dean insisted.

Cas immediately dropped to one knee and held the ring aloft. Dean laughed and dropped to a knee, too. He held his hand out so Cas could fit the ring over his finger. They sat back on their heels and laughed.

“I love it,” Dean said, finally taking a look. The band was simple- handmade and rustic, formed from oxidized silver. It wouldn’t matter if Dean wore it while working- it would only get more beautiful with wear. Just like him.

“I got one for me, too,” Castiel said. He pulled the matching band out of the plastic bag and held it out to Dean, who then put it on Cas’ finger. He’d picked the same design for himself in polished silver. They were very much the same, but slightly different. They held left hands for a moment, just breathing and smiling at one another.

The spell was broken when they were each tackled to the ground. Sam had Dean in a giant bear hug, and Charlie was squeezing Cas half to death.

“Now you’re really my brother!” she shouted. “You were so great!”

“You fuckers knew?” Dean asked. Everyone laughed.

“You too?” Dean asked, getting to his feet and aiming his eyes at Benny and Gabe and Meg. They all nodded. "Assholes."

"This was all fake," Cas told him, grabbing Dean's face in his hands and meeting his eyes.

"What, everything?" Dean asked.

Cas laughed and held up his left hand, showing his ring. "No. This is real. This will always be real." 

They kissed again, briefly, and then they were being hugged. Meg, Gabe, even Benny made the rounds, hugging Cas and Dean, then both together, and even Sam and Charlie and each other. 

Cas noticed for the first time that Gabe's eyes were red and puffy. "Are you crying?" he asked. 

Gabe just scoffed and smiled, pulling him into another squeeze. 

There were a lot of things to figure out. There were plans to be made, people to talk to. There was John Winchester to face. But Dean and his siblings were examining the ring, and Benny had come and clapped Cas on the back and called him _brother_ , and as Cas met Dean’s eyes from a few feet away, they shared a beaming smile.

Castiel knew, in that moment, that nothing in their lives would ever be perfect. But they would have each other, and that would be more than enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always with this fic, this chapter is autobiographical. Yes, this did just happen. This past weekend. The only difference is that I faked a gishwhes item to make it happen.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who's loved and supported this self-indulgent bit of fluff. I love you all.


End file.
